


Chemistry

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU: Different First Meeting, College, Condoms, Danger, Dreams, Experimentation, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Fear, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, Games, Identity, Inappropriate Adult, Insecurity, Love, M/M, Masturbation, PDA, Panic, Physical Abuse, Porn, Safety, Secrets, Self-Acceptance, Sexting, Teasing, Teenlock, Temper, Tutoring, Violence, homophobic father, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 120,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pressure to pass his chemistry course leads John to find a tutor. His choice, though, leads to more changes in both of their lives than either one ever saw coming.</p><div class="center">
  <p>    <b> Here it is, the whole story.<br/></b><br/>We really hope you've enjoyed their journey.<br/>Thanks so much for the comments -- we love hearing from you!!</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Tutor

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>   
>  _This chapter contains scenes of physical abuse._   
> 

"John, you didn't even finish the exam. Again," she said, waving the exam in front of his face. John sighed as his teacher lectured on and on, telling him the same things she was always telling him when he failed the exams. The truth was he was acing all of his classes except chemistry, and to guarantee his place at uni, his grades needed to be perfect.

"John, are you listening to me? I think you need a tutor," she said. 

"I can do this," John insisted. It's not that he didn't know the material, but chemistry took extra effort to remember and then he lost most of it when the exam started. "I will." He took his test and left before she could start all over again. Out in the hall he moved across to the big window to get out of the way as he stuffed the exam away.  

Sherlock pushed out of the room. He hadn't even looked at his exam; he knew what his grade would be. It was almost embarrassing to him how easy this class was. He had hoped to be more challenged, but hadn't really found that. At least not in the classroom. He was finding interacting with others quite challenging; this hadn't been a surprise, of course, but there had been a part of him that had wondered if things would be different here. Apparently, the answer was no.

John leaned his head against the glass with a heavy sigh. Tutoring? There was no way he was going to sit with his teacher for extra time after school and his dad would not pay for professional help. Maybe a student? And that's when he saw him reflected in the glass. Sherlock Holmes. They never talked, of course. He was so smart, it was a bit intimidating. But John was desperate and he needed help. "Hey," John called out, hurrying after him. "Hold on!"

It took three shouts before Sherlock turned. People yelled for each other all the time, rarely did they mean him. Sherlock stopped and examined John's face. He recognised him from class: not a bad student, not a great one; quite popular; played some kind of sport; handsome face. That's all he knew, none of which would explain why he was calling after Sherlock. So he asked, "Whatever do you want with me?"

John stared at him for a moment. He really was intimidating. "Um . . .I need help. Tutoring," he clarified. 

"I don't doubt there's someone who can help you. That's what schools are for. I have never needed a tutor. I don't know what to tell you," he said. This person was strange, Sherlock thought, though he then felt bad -- no doubt that it was every person he'd ever met had thought about him. "Sorry."

"I would like your help," he said, looking down as he said it. This was embarrassing. 

Now Sherlock understood what John was asking, but didn't understand why. "Why are you asking me? I don't even know you. You don't know me."  
  
"The only people I know are my teammates and they're thick as bricks. You're smart," John shrugged.

"You're right," Sherlock said and then regretted it, although both John's comments were true. "I suppose I could help. Perhaps we could strike a deal. If I offer you help, what will you offer me?" Sherlock knew he sounded devious already and, while it wasn't the impression he wanted to make, he'd rather John was slightly wary of him rather than assume he could take advantage of Sherlock.

"I don't know," John shrugged. "I could pay you, I guess," he offered even though he hardly had any money. 

"Fine, you can pay me. We should meet so I can see how hard I will need to work and then I will set a price," Sherlock heard the words coming out of his mouth. They weren't really the words he wanted to say, but still out they came. "Where and when would you like to meet?"  
  
"I don't have rugby practice anymore so I have every day after school free. And I thought the library would be best," John said.

"Fine, we'll start today. Bring your last few tests unless you've already disposed of them. And your book. And some paper. And something to write with. Bring those things," Sherlock said. It was time for lunch and, unlike most other days, now Sherlock had something to do during the break: think about what he was actually going to do as a tutor. "I'll see you in the library," he reached out to awkwardly shake John's hand.

"Oh right," John nodded, taking his hand and shaking it. "Thanks a lot," he said.

Sherlock headed to the lunchroom. He knew he wasn't really going to be thinking about how to tutor. It couldn't be that hard really, and besides he couldn't plan anything until he saw what John's understanding was. What he'd be thinking about was how to act around a boy his age, how to talk to him, how to just be around him. It would be like an experiment, but one from which he personally could benefit.

He had never really talked to many people at his last school. He was around them in class, but he never interacted with them. He wasn't even sure what normal people his age were interested in; he just felt sure it was not what he was interested in. He came up with some comments he could make about the teachers and thought about how he could dismiss comments about sports or girls without sounding like his usual strange self.

John took his bagged lunch out to the bench, preferring to eat outside. He had friends but only people he shared common interests with -- empty things like sports or classes. He had no desire to see these people more than he had to. As he ate, his mind drifted to the tutoring session later and he worried that it might be a bad idea. He was a chemistry idiot, and he was setting himself up to look like a fool. To prepare he pulled out his old exams and looked over what he did wrong.

After lunch, Sherlock went to his history class and then decided to skip his last lesson. He went to the library and scoped the room. He chose a table kind of in the back, but then thought that John might not be able to see him there. So he decided to work there and at the end of the day, he'd move towards the front and pretend to be looking at books so that he could catch John as he came in. Sherlock felt his cheeks blush as he realised he was making such a big deal of this whole thing. He picked up a newspaper and read through it. He was feeling anxious and reading about all the stupid people in the world seemed to make him feel better.

John was only half aware for the rest of the day, his mind fixed on the tutoring session. He didn't know anything. Sherlock was going to laugh him right out of the library. Worse than his fear of failing was his fear of Sherlock thinking he was an idiot. Which he probably did already. When the classes were finally over he took his time getting to the library, fighting the urge to vomit. _He's just another student, just like you_ , his brain said but they both knew that was a lie.

"Hello," he said quietly when he finally spotted Sherlock.

"I'm glad you came," Sherlock said back, again wondering why that had come out of his mouth. He tried to act normal -- if only he had a sense of what normal was. "Did you bring your tests? May I have a look?"

"You can," John said, pulling them out again. He wished he'd kept them in a folder or something. "Just don't be too harsh, okay?" he half joked. He passed over the exams and looked down at the table as he waited.

Sherlock looked over the tests. He thought about the words 'too harsh.' He carefully said, "Some of these aren't even finished. Do you think you are stupid or just unprepared? If you're stupid, I'm not sure I can help, but if you're unprepared, I might be able to." Sherlock was pretty sure the repetition of the word 'stupid' had been a mistake, but it was too late. He thought about his own weakness in school -- not a subject, but social interaction -- was he himself stupid or just unprepared? He had thought he'd prepared for this, but it hadn't seemed to help. Perhaps working with John would give him more experience so he could improve alongside John's chemistry grades. "I will charge you five pounds a day and you don't have to pay me now. We can start a tab and you can pay whenever you want," Sherlock said as he shifted his books to the side, inviting John to sit down and start working now.

John flushed when Sherlock started talking. "I am not stupid," he said a bit angrily. "I just . . . I can feel the clock ticking and I panic and forget everything," he mumbled. He sighed and glanced up at him. "And that's a fair price," he agreed, knowing he'd have to start saving that and cut out something else.

"Well, I'm glad you're not stupid," Sherlock said. "I find it difficult to get along with stupid people," he paused. Of course, the truth was he found it difficult to get along with all people. "You don't seem stupid to me. If it's just about being prepared, I'm confident I can help. But it seems strange you panic. I know you play some kind of sport. You don't panic then, do you? I wonder why it's just chemistry. How do you study?" Sherlock now wanted to figure this out, unlock the mystery.

"It's a weakness," John shrugged. "So I panic. I don't like it. And I usually just read in my room, make new notes, go over old notes," he explained.

"Are you saying because you think you're good at sport, you don't panic, but because you think you're bad at chemistry, you panic, which thereby ensures you are not good at chemistry?" Sherlock asked. If so, this was a problem of logic and Sherlock was very good at problems of logic.

"Yeah," John nodded, smiling softly. "That's exactly it." 

"It sounds like the problem isn't chemistry, but you. Here, I have an idea," Sherlock stood up gathering his things. "Follow me."  
  
He led John to the chemistry lab, nodding at the assistant as he went in. He set his things down and motioned for John to do the same. He pulled out a jar from a cupboard and then set six other jars on the counter. He brought out two beakers.

"Pick two jars. They each contain different liquids. It doesn't matter which ones." John selected two and Sherlock told him to pour a little of each into each beaker. Then Sherlock handed him the jar he was holding. It contained a white powder. "Pour a little into each beaker."  
  
John dropped some into the first and it fizzed and bubbled up. He then shook some into the second beaker and it sank to the bottom.

"That's all chemistry is. Mixing different chemicals causes different reactions. You just poured sodium bicarbonate into vinegar to cause one reaction and then water to cause a different one. See? You can do it. You just did it. I just watched you do it. Therefore, you can do chemistry so you needn't panic anymore. I'm your witness." Sherlock smiled at John as he started to tidy up their experiment. "Of course, there's also remembering things but I don't doubt you know you can remember things. You must have to remember things in sport, or in other classes, or girls' phone numbers, so that shouldn't be a problem."

John followed Sherlock's directions and then couldn't help grinning when Sherlock rambled on about how great John was at chemistry. "Sherlock, this is just . . . one thing. One chemical thing. I can never remember the formulas and the compounds and -- it just all gets mixed up," he said. 

"But it only gets mixed up because you're telling yourself it gets mixed up. You just did it in front of me and now you're telling yourself you can't. You just did chemistry and I know I'm not wrong that you remember other things, right? So there, that proves it. Don't tell yourself you can't do it. It's useless and . . . annoying."

Sherlock looked down at the counter. It was frustrating to see someone who was obviously bright refuse to see something so logical. "Look," he said, "we can work together but only if you stop telling both me and yourself that you can't do it. If you're going to keep saying that, you'll never get it so neither of us should bother wasting our time. But it is as easy as that, I promise you. I don't lie."

"But you're a genius --" John cut off when he saw the look Sherlock gave him. "I can do chemistry," he said instead. 

"Fine," Sherlock said, "I will help you." As he shifted one of the bottles, he said, "It's a good thing you didn't choose this one, you'd have blown up the whole school." When John laughed, Sherlock said, "I'm kidding. The only choices were water and vinegar. I laid them out in a way so I knew you'd pick one of each. I was pretty sure if we blew up the school, you wouldn't want me to tutor you anymore." He tried to do a little laugh.

John grinned. "I wouldn't have to take the final then, so please continue."

"True, but you'd have quite a lot of new things that might keep you from getting to university," Sherlock said. "Let's go over the last exam and look at the ones you got wrong." Sherlock and John sat with the exam, Sherlock explaining the errors. Then Sherlock tested John on the questions he never got to because he had panicked, and John was able to get most of them right. "See? It's just practice and not telling yourself you can't do it." He looked at the clock. "What time do you need to go home? It's just gone 4.30."

"Shit," John breathed, scrambling to get his things together. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he moved towards the door. 

"Which way do you live? I'm going into town. Do you want to walk together? Or should we just meet again tomorrow after school?" Sherlock asked.

"No," John said quickly. "I mean, we can just meet after school." He was going to have to let his dad know that he was staying after for finals. 

"Okay," Sherlock tried to say in a neutral voice, despite feeling a little awkward. "I'll see you tomorrow. Bring your other exams, but we'll start with the chapter we're working on so you can stay on top of things." He tried to smile.

"Okay, see you," he called back as he walked out of the room, hurrying down the hall. He fished for his wallet as he tried to hail a cab to get home but realised he didn't have enough. Sighing, he shouldered his bag and started jogging towards his house. 

Sherlock walked into the city centre. He went to the post office and posted a letter. Then he picked up a drink and sandwich. He walked home. He left a note on the table saying "I've already eaten and have gone to bed." He went up to his room. He lay down on his bed and thought about his interaction with John. He thought it had gone okay, better than his usual interactions. It ended strangely, but Sherlock realised he was actually somewhat looking forward to meeting him again tomorrow. He got up and started some work on his laptop.

When John finally got home, he spent a good half hour arguing with his father who demanded to know where John had been. John told him about the extra studying but left out the fact that he'd been doing it with Sherlock. He avoided a physical punishment and went straight up to his room. He pulled out his old exams and started looking over them himself. He wished he had Sherlock's number so he could ask questions, but as he played the scene of what that would have looked like in his head -- of him asking for Sherlock’s number -- he flushed and pushed it away. There's no way he would have done that.  

Sherlock proofread his writing and then uploaded it to his blog. As always, he had a moment of panic after posting: his words could now be read by anyone in the world -- by his family, by his neighbours, by his teachers, by him. What would John think if he stumbled across the blog? As always, he considered deleting it, but didn't. But for a moment, he imagined John reading it and tomorrow telling Sherlock that he understood. Then Sherlock closed his laptop, brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas before getting into bed to read.

After a long while John dozed off, his test papers scattered all over the bed. He had strange dreams about the chemistry lab and Sherlock trying to convince him to blow the place up. He mixed various brightly colored liquids but Sherlock kept shouting at him that they were all wrong. When John finally put the right mix together Sherlock kissed him, which jolted John awake. He could feel that his face was flushed as he pressed his hands hard against his eyes, trying to shake off the dream. What an odd thing to see. He went downstairs for dinner, informing his father that he's be staying late at school for a while. 

"Who with?" he snapped. 

"No one. I told you the finals are coming up and I have to do extra studying."

"So do it here."

"I can't concentrate here," John said. 

"Four thirty," his dad grumbled. John nodded and went back upstairs, cleaning up his exams and lying down to go to sleep. They'd have to be quicker tomorrow.

Most nights Sherlock drifted in and out of sleep. This night was no different. Eventually, he could see the sun had risen and decided to do the same.

He showered and dressed. He left a note on the table saying he'd be home late and started walking. He walked through the park and down the pedestrian area. He eventually got to the school. Teachers were just beginning to arrive and Sherlock loitered a few yards from the gate so he could watch them walking in without their being tempted to speak to him. Eventually he followed them in, getting to his classroom just as the other kids started showing up.

John made sure to have money for a cab when he left for school that morning, choosing to walk there just to be safe. He went through his classes only half there, the answers he remembered from his studying running through his head. He didn't want to look like an idiot in front of Sherlock again. When he finally got to chemistry he moved to a different seat, sitting behind Sherlock. "Hey," he said as he sat down. 

Sherlock was surprised to see John. He had assumed that John would want to keep their interactions more secret, so his friends wouldn't see him talking to the new freak. But Sherlock smiled and said hello. Then he felt like he should say something else so he added, "Did you have a good night?"

"Oh, yeah," John nodded, looking at his desk, worried Sherlock would see his dream in his eyes. "You?"

"It was fine," Sherlock said. He too was looking at the desk. "Here, I made this for you," he slid a sheet of paper over to John. On it were key terms about the topic of today's lecture. "I left space for you to take notes, but these words will be important."

John blinked at the paper at a complete lost for words. By the time he came to, the teacher had started talking. "Thank you," he whispered quickly before starting to take notes. It was extremely helpful, almost as if he had written the lesson plan himself. 

Sherlock didn't take notes: he never did, certainly not in science classes, but as the class progressed, he watched John takes notes and tapped his desk softly if he missed a key point. After class, he said, "See? You got all the important stuff. Your notes look good. I told you you could do it."

John fought the urge to tell him that Sherlock was really the one who had done it. "Yes. Um, I have to be home at four thirty so we should get started."

"Let's go to the lab instead of the library in case we need any materials and it's more private there," Sherlock was still thinking John wouldn't want to be seen with him. "I mean, it's quieter so it'll be easier to work."  
  
They headed to the lab. Sherlock asked John to tell him about the lecture they had just heard, using his notes. Then he asked him to describe it without the notes. John was able to, even clearly explaining a relatively complicated formula. "There," Sherlock said, "you did it and I didn't help at all, did I? It's four o'clock: do you want to stop or look at an old test or do something else?"

"With a cab I can get home in seven minutes," John said. "What can we do for twenty three minutes? Say twenty two by the time a cab stops for me." He noticed that not only had Sherlock said 'something else' but also that he himself had not suggested chemistry. He remembered his dream and flushed lightly. 

"I'm sure you don't smoke, but I fancy one so we could go out and chat while I have a fag. We don't have to talk about chemistry. You shouldn't get obsessed. We could talk about sport if you want. I won't have anything to say, but I'll listen."

"Yeah, all right," John nodded. He packed up his things and shouldered his bag. 

Sherlock led John out a side door and around some bushes. He took out a cigarette and lit it. He took a slow inhale and let out a slower exhale. "So what sport do you play?" he said, holding up his cigarette packet to offer John one.

John shook his head at the offer. "I play rugby, here at the school."

"That is absolutely fascinating," Sherlock said sarcastically, smiling as he said it. "Sorry, I am not very interested in sport. But you can tell me more. Or are you interested in other things that I might also be interested? We could talk about those. We still have twenty minutes and eighteen seconds left."

"I don't know what you like," John pointed out. "How would I know if we like the same things?"

"If you were observant, you'd be able to make a reasonable guess. For example, I know you like sport, but if I take a close look, I can probably deduce a number of things about you." Sherlock looked at John's face and quickly scanned his body. "You have one sibling. You don't get along really but you want try to protect them. You like listening to music, but don't love dancing. You are ambitious. You're hungry a lot, both literally and figuratively. You worry about what you look like but you don't need to." He threw his cigarette end on the ground and stepped on it. "How did I do?"

John flushed and blinked up at Sherlock. "Wow," he said finally. "Um . . . yes. I have an older sister. She's stays away a lot. And sorry, but what is 'figuratively hungry'?"

"You want something that you don't have. You crave it." Sherlock looked over John again, "But I can't tell what it is. Not yet at least," he smiled.

"Oh," John looked down again. "Well, tell me something about you, then, so we'll be even."

"Instead, we'll test your observations. Observation is part of chemistry, you know. I'll tell you something about me and you tell me if you think it's true, using your powers of deduction. Fact one: at my last school, I was the most popular kid in my year. True or false?"

"False," John said uncomfortably. He heard the way people talked about Sherlock and he knew that sort of thing didn't often change.

"Correct. See? You should trust your observations. Okay, fact two: Like you, I have one sibling."

John looked him up and down but saw nothing that would hint at that. "Um . . .true?" he guessed. 

Sherlock nodded. "Fact three: I have a girlfriend." He looked at John and added, "Think carefully."

John looked at him closely. Sherlock was handsome but not very popular. "Um . . . false?" He hated saying it. 

Sherlock smiled. "You are right again. You apparently know me quite well after all. And yourself? Do you have a girlfriend?"

John shook his head. "No, I don't." _I don't like girls_ , he thought to himself, looking down at the ground again. 

"Well, John, it sounds like we have plenty in common and plenty to talk about without rugby ever needing to be mentioned. Perhaps I could have your phone number or email in case I want to talk to you about one of these similarities at some point?" He handed John his phone.

John's hands were so sweaty he was sure he was going to drop the phone. Somehow he managed to type his name and number out. He glanced at the time. Twenty five. "Shit, I have to go," he said, shouldering his bag again and heading for the road. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, John," Sherlock called after him. "Have a good night." He watched John get in the taxi and head off. He decided to smoke another cigarette before going for his walk. He walked through the city centre again. He stopped at a news agents and bought a newspaper and for no reason, he nicked a pack of gum which he handed to a little boy after he walked up the road. Doing this made him feel better for a minute.

He headed home, but the house went empty. He watched the news for a while. When he heard his parents arrive, he rushed upstairs to his room. When his mother called his name, he shouted down that he was working and had already eaten. He worked for a while on his laptop and then did the crossword puzzles in the newspaper. He took a shower and then called downstairs that he was going to bed. He had put on a clean pair of pajamas after his shower and when he slipped into his bed, he felt quite relaxed. He closed his eyes and realised John's face was in his imagination. He liked John but he wasn't quite sure why. He seemed very different from Sherlock, but today's conversation perhaps suggested that maybe he wasn't. But it also seemed like John was quite anxious, about more than just chemistry class. Sherlock wondered what troubled John. This time, he determined, he wondered not just out of curiosity, but because he felt an urge to help John with whatever was bothering him. This desire was unfamiliar to Sherlock. But he decided, for now at least, he kind of liked the feeling. That's what he went to sleep thinking of.

John got out of the cab and hurried into his house, running right into his dad. "There was traffic --" he started, but his dad hit him across the face, right near his temple. 

"What time did I tell you to come home?" he shouted. 

"There was traffic!" John shouted back. His dad hit him again and shoved him towards the stairs. "I wasn't with anyone!"

"Get upstairs, now," he snarled. John snatched his backpack off of the floor and hurried upstairs, slamming the door of his room shut and damning the fact that there was no lock on it. His eye stung but he was too riled up to worry about it. He just needed to get into university and get away from this mess. In the middle of his pacing he had pulled out his phone and it wasn't until he started to calm down that he realised he was looking to see if Sherlock had texted. The fact that he hadn't made John feel worse. But that was stupid. He kicked his backpack and lay down, the stinging in his eye more prominent now. He lay like that for a long time, until he was sure his dad had fallen asleep, before sneaking downstairs and sneaking some leftovers from yesterday. He hurried back upstairs and wondered where Harry was. It was all fine for her, coming out and then leaving. Now John had to suffer for it. He touched the corner of his eye and winced. That would be bruised tomorrow. He sneaked back downstairs and wrapped up some ice, lying on his side with the ice balanced on his temple. At least tomorrow was Friday. He just had to get through one day. 

The next morning as Sherlock stood outside the school gates to have a cigarette before his first class, he remembered that he didn't have chemistry today and wondered if that meant he wouldn't see John. Would they still be meeting anyway? It was a Friday, most kids were just happy for the school week to be over; John probably wouldn't want to voluntarily stay longer to do more school work. Sherlock realised he really wanted to meet with John but not to do chemistry. He just wanted to hang out with him for a while; he just wanted to be around him. He didn't know John's schedule; they weren't in any other classes together. He thought about trying to catch him at lunch, but then pictured seeing John at a table full of rugby players and he just couldn't imagine himself going up to talk to him. Then he remembered that he had John's number.

_Can we study together this afternoon? I'd like to. SH_

John felt bittersweet about not having to see Sherlock today. His eye was really bruised and he didn't want to have to answer questions about it. But he was disappointed as well. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and fished it out, biting his lip as he read the text. 

_I have to go home. I'm sorry. -JW_

Sherlock felt genuine disappointment. Partly because he really did want to see John and partly because reading the text made the voice in the back of his head say, "See what happens when you interact with others -- you just end up disappointed." He tried to silence the voice, but doubted he ever would. To fight against it, he wrote back.

_Shame. I wanted to see you. SH_

John stopped walking when he saw the message, causing the group behind him to run into him. "Sorry," he mumbled as he moved to the side of the hall. Sherlock _wanted_ to see him. Oh. Acting on a complete whim, he messaged back quickly and turned to walk in the other direction. 

_Meet me in the rugby field. And don't ask. -JW_

He was acing all of his classes so why would it matter if he skipped just one? It wasn't chemistry. 

If Sherlock were crazy, he'd have gloated to the voice in his head. But he wasn't mad, so instead he just felt pleased with himself for not giving into the voice. He headed toward the rugby field. He wondered what he wasn't supposed to ask about, but when he saw John come towards him, he knew. He felt like he should ask, like it might have something to do with what he was wondering about John last night. But John had also told him not to ask so he didn't. So instead he asked, "Do you have a job then? Is that why your time is so controlled?"

John shook his head. "I just have to be home by a certain time. Family stuff," he said vaguely. 

"Okay then," Sherlock said. John clearly didn't want to talk about it, even though Sherlock wanted him to. "Well, if you ever need a break from that, you should come to mine. I live with them but I haven't seen my parents in five days." And then without even thinking about whether or not he should, he added, "You look nice today . . . except for that, obviously." He hoped it was a compromise: he wouldn't ask but he felt compelled to at least acknowledge.

John was just about to make up some excuse for not going to Sherlock's when he heard the rest of what he'd said. He flushed brightly and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um, thanks," he mumbled. He wanted to say it back but felt like that would be weird now, like he didn't really mean it and was only saying it to be nice. "But . . . I can't come over. Thanks for the offer, though." John knew what his dad would assume if he said he was going to a friend's. A girl would have to come to his house if he wanted contact with the outside world other than school. He wondered if Harry knew what mess she'd caused when she had left.

"Look, I think this will probably sound stupid coming out of my mouth, but I'm going to say it anyway," Sherlock said, trying to smile as he spoke, "it's going to seem kind of weird not seeing you for two days. You've probably noticed I don't have many friends. I know we've only been hanging out for a couple days, well, we're not hanging out, I'm tutoring you, I guess, but I'm just used to seeing you every day now. Anyway, it's stupid . . .," Sherlock let his voice trail. He had pushed his luck: he rarely spoke or acted without careful consideration. He'd done it twice now this morning and he decided this one was probably one too far. He looked at his watch. "Well, I think I'm going to take the morning off. I'm not in the mood. Look after yourself, yeah?" he turned to walk off, already getting out his cigarettes to light up as soon as he got off the school grounds.


	2. Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
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> _This chapter contains discussions of physical abuse._  
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John watched him go as his stomach rolled violently with his words. This was crazy. If his dad ever found out . . . he looked at Sherlock again and suddenly felt a bit panicked, as if Sherlock would stop existing if John didn't see him every day. "Hold on," he called out, jogging to catch up to him. "Um, I _might_ be able to get out this weekend. Maybe." There was a tree near his window. And his dad played poker on Saturday night over at his friend's place. He'd have to be home by one but he wouldn't mention any of that yet. Not until he was sure he could do it. 

Sherlock was smiling when he turned back to look at John. "That'd be good. You don't have to come to mine if it's easier not to. We could meet . . . wherever you want. Whatever you want is fine." Even though they were still technically on the field, Sherlock lit his cigarette. "But don't do anything . . . unsafe on my account, okay?"

John got the feeling that Sherlock knew what had happened but neither of them was going to mention it. "I'll text you," John said simply.

"Please do, but if I don't hear from you, will we still meet after school on Monday?" Sherlock already knew he was too eager about seeing John this weekend, when it was likely he'd be disappointed. If he could know he'd at least get time with him on Monday, that might temper his eagerness.

"Maybe," John said vaguely again. He doubted his dad was going to let him stay after school anymore, but he didn't want to tell Sherlock that. He wanted to see Sherlock. 

"What if you had a letter saying you were required by the school to do extra tutoring? Or by the rugby coach? We could make that happen. I'm excellent at letter writing," he stopped. "Sorry, I'm butting in, I just . . . want to help," Sherlock moved his hand to John's arm, but then worried that it was too weird. "Sorry again," he said, "I mean . . . I hope your jacket doesn't smell of smoke." He threw down his cigarette.

"He . . ." John trailed off and shook his head. This was not the time to tell the story. He'd never actually wanted to tell anyone before. "That might work. I'll bring it up first and see." John felt goosebumps rise from where Sherlock touched him. His stomach flipped nervously again.

"You don't have to say anything else. I just don't want to make things worse. I'm just being nosy and selfish, I guess, I'm not great at this friendship thing, obviously," he tried to lighten the mood. If he were really being selfish, though, he would touch John again, because that's what he really wanted. Which was strange as he normally hated being touched and had never really been interested in touching anyone else. "Well, I'm taking off, it appears. Have a good day in school. I'll talk to you later," he considered touching John's arm again, like a 'See you later, old chap' type pat or maybe just shaking his hand goodbye, but even Sherlock knew neither of those were appropriate.

"Where, um . . . where are you going?" John asked, following him for a couple more steps before they stopped walking again. "It's just . . . I did the homework already so I don't _really_ have to go. It's not chemistry, after all," he smiled. "I don't mean to intrude if you've got something to do but if you're not doing anything specific . . ." John trailed off and shrugged. If he couldn't get out this weekend, at least they could have this. 

"I don't have a plan really, I just am going away from here. I will probably walk into the city centre as I've a letter to post. But after that, I'll just walk until it's time to go home. You're welcome to join me. How many classes do you have today? We could talk about school stuff if that'd make you feel better. Or I'll just talk to you later. Whatever is fine," Sherlock could sense he was rambling.

"I have four classes," John said. "But I'm acing them and like I said, the homework is done." _Or I'll talk to you later._ Did he want to be alone? He knew he should have just kept quiet. "We can talk later, that's fine. You do what you need to," he nodded. 

"Come with me then," Sherlock said.

"I won't be in the way?" he asked, shifting his bag on his shoulder. 

"Don't be daft, I will literally be doing nothing. You can't get in the way of nothing. Besides," Sherlock said, turning to walk away but more importantly not be looking at John, "I want to be with you."

John flushed lightly and couldn't help grinning, glad that Sherlock wasn't looking at him. He jogged to catch up after he got his face under control. "Cool," he said casually. "So where to first?" As they walked he set an alarm on his phone to remind him to get home on time. 

"First, breakfast," Sherlock led them to a little cafe which barely looked open. When he walked in, the woman behind the counter said, "Good morning, Sherlock. How's school treating you?"  
  
"They sent me away again," Sherlock said. "They've got sick of me rather quickly, it appears." As the woman put a tea on the counter for Sherlock, he turned to John and asked, "What do you want? My treat."

"Just tea is fine," he said, fishing for his wallet anyways. If Sherlock paid, it would be a date. Wouldn't it? Would he mind if it was? He mentally shook his head to clear it. He couldn't think like that.  

"Don't be stupid. If you want food, get food. Let me pay, I want to," he leaned over to John and whispered, "She doesn't charge me full price anyway."

John shook his head, looking up at Sherlock who was now so very close. "Just tea is fine," he insisted. He was just a bit breathless, and he desperately hoped Sherlock didn't notice. What was wrong with him? It seemed like his dad's efforts were for naught.  

"Two teas, please," Sherlock said. The woman set down another mug and Sherlock and John sat down in a booth. "So you are uptight about time and money," Sherlock said. "Is your father a ruthless businessman then? Is that why those things matter so much?"

"Not a businessman," John shook his head. _Ruthless, on the other hand . . ._ "He's just strict, I guess." John took a sip of tea and looked up at Sherlock, wanting to move to a different topic. "If you don't mind me asking, how come you haven't seen your parents in five days?"

"Because they don't interest me in the slightest. I come in and leave without seeing them, which seems to suit everyone just fine. It's harder at the weekends, obviously. But they don't appear to be very interested in me either so everyone is happy, I guess," Sherlock swallowed some tea. "Why don't you move out or are you just trying to make it until uni? Are you going away then?"

"I can't afford to move out. And yes, I will be going away for school. I won't be coming back after," John said. "Not back home anyways."

"So you're just trying to get through this last year. But things don't seem to be going so well, it appears. Does your sister know?"

John looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "No. She doesn't know. We don't talk since she left."

"Maybe you should call her. Even if you don't get on, she might be able to help," Sherlock's voice was soft. "You should tell somebody, you know. It's against the law for him to do what he's doing. You could tell the police." He looked away. "What's his problem anyway? Is he a drunk?"

"No," John said a bit too harshly. "Sorry, I --" he sighed and looked down at the table. "My sister is gay. When she came out they got into a huge fight, she started leaving for days at a time, but no matter how long she stayed away they always fought when she came back. So she stopped coming back." Now that John had started talking about it, he couldn't stop. Maybe it was Sherlock. He swallowed hard before continuing quietly. "He moved on to me. He's strict with keeping me at home and he hits me and yells at me so I don't follow in her footsteps."

"Jesus Christ, John, that's sick," Sherlock said, and then felt bad. "Sorry, I don't mean to . . . but seriously, he seems kind of . . . messed up." He considered another adjective but decided against it. "I mean, really." He fiddled with the salt shaker. "Bad logic and also illegal. If you're gay, it's a hate crime. If you're not, it's abuse. Illegal either way. But you don't want to tell." He said nothing for a moment. "You could come stay at my house. You just shouldn't be around him."

"I'm not," John said quickly. "I'm not . . . gay," he shook his head. A lie, but he'd said too much already. "I can't just move out of my house," he mumbled. How great would it be to leave right now? And to live with Sherlock? But he couldn't. That would be crazy.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," John answered. He didn't know if Sherlock was referring to the moving out or to him being gay but it didn't matter. "I appreciate it, though."

"I wish I were sure," Sherlock said quietly.

"Sure about what?" John asked.

"You know, about being gay. Or not," Sherlock wasn't looking at John. "Or being anything."

"Oh," John said quietly. Was Sherlock gay? Had John offended him? "It's okay, you know, whatever you are. It's all fine."

"I suppose that's the problem. I don't know what I am," Sherlock was still looking down. He had never spoken to another human being about this. "I don't know if I have any feelings either way. Or maybe I do and I don't recognise them. I don't know," he paused. "I'm so certain of other things, so I guess I just concentrate on those instead."

"Well, maybe I could help. What, um . . . what kind of stuff do you feel?" John asked.

"Mainly, I feel annoyed," Sherlock kind of laughed. He thought it might lighten the mood, but also it was kind of true. "I don't know. I'm just not around people who are . . . very interesting. The kids at school? Her?" he motioned to the woman behind the counter. "She's nice to me every day I come in here, but I never feel like . . .  kissing her or anything. She's in her sixties, though, so she probably doesn't count. Otherwise I'm just not around people so how can I have any feelings?"

"You've never had a crush on anyone? You know, like always wanting to see them, they make you feel funny -- like a rolling in your stomach but a good kind. You know?" John realised he'd never had to explain this before and he sounded like a crazy person.

"No, I don't think I do know," Sherlock said, feeling like he should be embarrassed but he wasn't because he was just being honest. He tried to think of all the people he'd ever thought of. Sometimes he did want to be with them, but, of course, the voice would warn him about disappointment and the voice was usually right. Those people never really made him feel funny, though. "Is having a crush just looking forward to seeing someone? It can't be just that, otherwise children must have crushes on Father Christmas. I'm sure it must be something . . . more. Could you be a bit more specific?"

"Well, you definitely would be looking forward to seeing them but not because they have gifts. Because they make you happy. It brightens your day when you see them."

"No offense, John, but I think it's got to be more than that," Sherlock said. "I mean, what about the . . . sex stuff. It brightens my day when I see the postman but I've never imagined having sex with him."

John flushed and looked down at the table. "Well that's . . . yes. I suppose we should figure out if there's anyone you've wanted to have sex with and that will shed some light on the whole gay thing. Do you . . .I mean, have you ever wanted someone like that?" 

"Um, as I said, I don't know," Sherlock did blush this time. "I honestly don't know what that feels like so I don't know if I've felt it." Now he remembered why he never talked to anyone about this.

"It's . . ." John had only been with two girls before and he was hardly an expert. "You'd feel flushed and you wouldn't be able to stop thinking about them and kissing them and touching them," John looked down again. "You'd be . . . hard."

"Well, that's happened before. I mean the hard bit not the kissing and touching part. As does masturbation, before you ask. But I'm not thinking about anything . . . or anyone," he paused. "See? It's strange, isn't it? I'm just strange, I guess."

"Well, it takes time I suppose, to figure out what you want," John said. "Not everyone knows right away."

"Hmm. I can't tell if that's patronising or not. It seems like I should have at least have some kind of idea by now. Realistically. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. Or maybe the only people I meet are idiots. Present company excluded, obviously."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right person yet," John smiled, bravely meeting his gaze even though his stomach was rolling so violently he thought he was going to vomit. 

"Maybe I have been in love and just don't know it. Maybe when I'm in love I just do it less obnoxiously than others do," Sherlock said, not sure if this conversation had been that helpful to either of them. "Are these the kinds of things normal mates talk about?" he laughed softly, "We're a bit of a pair."

"I suppose really good mates would talk about sex and girls -- or whatever, " John smiled.

"Well, then, go ahead. We've already established I've got nothing to share on this topic. But I'm open to talking about it. You said you didn't have a girlfriend. Why not?"

John shrugged. "There's not a girl I like right now."

Sherlock nodded. The girls at college were . . . boring. "Have you had sex with anyone?"

"A couple girls," he shrugged again. "It was last year."

"And you were in love with them?"

"No," John admitted. "We said the words but it was just . . . a bit stupid."

"But you have been in love, right? You implied you have been. What's the story with that?"

"Sorry, when did I say that?"

"Well, you were going on about you'd think about them all the time and want to touch them and your stomach would roll. I guess I just assumed you were speaking some experience. Are you saying you've never been in love?"

John shook his head. "Not properly."

"Hmm . . . you shouldn't have posed as an expert then," Sherlock said smiling. "Okay, now I have a question. My gut feeling is I don't know what my deal is because I've never felt the things you described. How can you be so certain you're straight if you've never actually been in love?" 

John frowned slightly and looked down at the table. He realised Sherlock made a good point and after saying it was all fine he couldn't argue it. "I-I guess I don't," he mumbled. "But I've been with girls."

"No offense, John, but Elton John's been with girls," Sherlock tried to catch John's eye. He smiled. "Look, I'm not your father. I'm not trying to . . . make you be anything. Obviously, I like you, whatever you are. You could be gay or straight or bi or whatever I am." He drank some of his tea. "Maybe I'm just trying to use your experience to figure out mine. You must have wanted to have sex with those girls so maybe you are straight. Maybe you'll find some girl you both love and want to have sex with and that'll be that. You and your father will be happy. I just wish I had a better sense of what it felt like to be in love or to want to have sex. I don't think my stomach has ever rolled and, even though I know what sex is obviously, I've never really thought about actually doing it with anyone."

When Sherlock caught his eye and smiled, John offered a small one back. But before he could say anything about it the alarm on his phone sounded and he hurried to silence it. "I have to go," he said, very clearly disappointed. He swallowed the rest of his tea and started to pull on his jacket. 

Sherlock had really been enjoying this, and the alarm was like a reminder of the bad stuff in John's life. Even though he selfishly wanted to John to stay, he didn't want to do anything to make things worse for John. "I understand," he said, as he put some coins on the table. "I hope I hear from you this weekend, but I'll understand if I don't." He straightened John's collar for him, resting his hand on John's shoulder for just a second. "Thank you," he said softly.

John nodded and, in a very sudden movement, he pulled Sherlock into a hug. "Thanks for the tea," he said before pulling away. He shouldered his bag and headed to the door. "Sorry. Thanks," he said again before he finally left. What the hell had he been thinking? He shook his head as he hailed a cab, giving his address and leaning his head against the back of the seat. 

Sherlock stood for a moment, watching John get in the car and drive off. He grabbed his coat and put it on. As he turned, the woman behind the counter smiled at him. He smiled back and said goodbye. He walked out and lit a cigarette. He decided he might as well head home. No one was there, so Sherlock went up to his room to lie down. But he didn't nap. Instead he thought about what might be going on at John's house and the thought made his stomach hurt.

John made it home with time to spare. His dad wasn't home from work yet so he made himself a quick frozen dinner before heading up into his room. He left his backpack hanging on the stairs so that his dad would see it and know that he was home. As he ate he thought about the time he'd spent with Sherlock. He didn't have friends -- not really. He got on well with his team mates and some kids from his classes but the things he talked about with Sherlock . . . he sighed and lay back, staring at the ceiling. _Just say it,_ the voice in his head insisted. John ignored it and shook his head. He wasn't. He couldn't be. _And what about all that with Sherlock today?_ "Shut up," John grumbled to himself, pulling his chemistry book close and focusing on that instead. 

Eventually Sherlock did fall asleep. When he woke two hours later, he had an erection. Normally he would do one of two things: he would wait it out -- think about school or the news -- and eventually it would go away or he would masturbate, thinking of nothing except the movement of his hand, the tension in his body and the release of that tension.

Maybe that's where he's been going wrong. Maybe he should try to think of sex. He lay quietly for a few minutes, to make sure no one else was in the house. He didn't hear any noises, so he undid his trousers and slid his hand around his erection. He tried to remember if he had dreamt, maybe his dreams were about love or sex and that's why he woke up hard. But he couldn't remember. So instead, as he started to stroke himself, he tried to concentrate on the things John had said: about wanting to see the person, about feeling funny, about wanting to touch the person, about the person brightening the day. The problem was he couldn't picture this person, couldn't see a face, not even an imaginary one. He just kept thinking of John, about how John looked as he spoke to Sherlock across the cafe table. Sherlock wished he could just be normal, just have a normal conversation with John and make John laugh and want to stay with him and not go home. Then he found himself imagining what it would be like if John really could move into Sherlock's house, how John would be safe and they could spend all their time together and he'd help John with his homework and maybe John would sleep in Sherlock's room, maybe in the same bed. And with that thought, Sherlock's orgasm hit. He reached for something to wipe away the mess and then rolled over to face the wall. The first time he actually thought of someone else while masturbating and it was his new friend, John. He wondered if this meant he was gay after all. Or was it just because of what they had spent the day talking about?

There was a little part of Sherlock that felt kind of proud of having done it. He had actually made a connection between sexual feelings and a person. But he certainly couldn't go bragging to John: what would he say 'I actually managed to think of another person while wanking and it was you?' Should he tell him, though -- maybe he owed it to John to be truthful? It might mean that John wouldn't want to be friends anymore. This was so much more complicated. Yet, Sherlock thought, it had felt good imagining being with John all the time.

When the words were swimming on the page John closed the book and finally got ready for bed. He spent a long time trying _not_ to think about Sherlock which resulted in him having strange dreams about Sherlock all night. He woke up late the next morning and found a note from his dad that he was going into work for the day and would be home late. Late -- that usually meant around seven for his dad. He looked at the time and saw it was only eleven. Grinning, he went back upstairs to find his phone, pausing when he looked at the screen. One missed call from Harry. He sighed and listened to the voice mail. She must have been drinking. She was swearing a lot and telling John to run away and move in with her and her girlfriend. John rolled his eyes and deleted it. 

_I'm free until five if you still want to hang out. -JW_

That would give him enough time to get home just in case his dad came back earlier than seven. He'd have to remember to come back with groceries just in case. That would be a good reason to have gone out.  

Saturday morning Sherlock's parents were out with friends. This meant he had the day to himself. He lounged in bed. He had no plans -- normally a situation he'd see as a positive. But for some reason, it made him feel a bit sad. He realised he felt lonely. Normally, he just felt alone, which was different than feeling lonely.

Sherlock heard his phone go. When he saw the message was from John, he felt warm. When he read it, he felt warmer. He put his hand to his forehead. Was he ill? Or was this the kind of thing John had talked about? Either way, he couldn't help feeling happy about John's text.

_I do. Everything okay at your house? No one's here. You want to come to mine or we could meet somewhere? SH_

John paced in his room as he waited for Sherlock to answer. When he finally felt the phone vibrate, he went through a variety of different feelings almost all at once. He wanted to hang out and that made John really happy. But then he asked about the house and John felt a bit embarrassed because he's forgotten about telling Sherlock that. Suddenly he remembered his eye and sighed. Then his eyes fixed on that last question and he considered it for way too long. What would they do at Sherlock's house? _What do you want to do?_ "Shut up," he grumbled again.  

_I can come to yours. -JW_

_Good. We'll find something to do. I can make lunch. Come over anytime. SH_

Sherlock sent through the coordinates to his house but included a Google Maps link as well just in case. Maybe he should have said a specific time? He rushed out of bed and into the shower. Being with his naked self reminded him of what happened after his nap last night. He tried not to think of it, but once again he wondered if he was obliged to tell John. He got dressed and tidied his room. Then he went to the kitchen to see what food they had. Lunch would be something they could do together -- Sherlock wasn't sure if he had to come up with some activity or if they could just hang out and talk like they did yesterday. That would be enough for Sherlock, but he was unsure if that's what normal lads did when they got hung out. He guessed he could always suggest studying chemistry if John seemed bored, but that's not what Sherlock felt like doing. Sherlock liked having a plan, he liked knowing what was going to happen, but he realised that probably wasn't an option today. He'd just have to play things by ear, which always made his stomach hurt a little.

John grinned at the message and jotted down the address before hopping in the shower. Sherlock's house was in a nice part of the town, and he wondered what it would look like when he got there. When he was finished he started pulling out some fresh clothes, realising a half hour later that he was putting too much thought into it. He settled for a pair of dark jeans and a striped long sleeve t-shirt.

_I'm on my way. -JW_

John threw on his jacket and left the house, having to use his phone for the address anyways since he forgot the paper. His stomach was flipping wildly as he thought about spending the day with Sherlock. If only his dad would be gone longer. And that's when Sherlock's offer came into his head and he bit his lip. They didn't know each other for very long but John had said things to him that -- well, were very personal things. He focused on the passing scenery and tried to calm down.

Sherlock was now ready for John's arrival and was glad when he got his text -- at least now he could estimate how much longer he'd have to wait. It wasn't the same as a plan, but it was something.

He wasn't sure how to be when John arrived: should he be working or watching telly or listening to music? God, why was he getting so worked up about this? He tried to give himself a break -- John was the first person he'd had over since he moved to this school; to be fair, this was the first friend he'd had over for many, many years actually. He decided to do what he'd normally do: he turned on the radio and started reading the newspapers. He did check his phone a number of times, but told himself this was reasonable: he was just making sure that John hadn't got lost. When he thought it must be close to the time John would get there, he put the kettle on.

When the cab finally stopped John stared up the house in awe. It was huge. He paid the driver and got out, wiping his hands on his thighs just for something to do as he approached the door. He rang the bell and stepped back, trying to listen for footsteps.

When Sherlock saw the taxi, he poured the water into the pot. He answered the door, smiling the minute he saw John. "Come in -- did you find it okay?" He led John through to the kitchen and scooped up the newspapers he had spread out over the table. "I've just made tea," he added. "Can I get you anything else?" He was afraid he sounded too formal, but this is how his family always acted when they had visitors. But John wasn't a visitor, he told himself, he was a friend.

He brought the tea over and sat next to John. "Was everything okay last night after you got home? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want. I just thought about you and was . . . worried."

"Yeah, he didn't have a problem. Your place is really fancy," John smiled. He followed Sherlock and sat down at his table, pulling the mug of tea closer. "Everything was fine. He wasn't home when I got there." John offered him an appreciative smile for thinking about him. "I brought money for you -- for the tutoring," he added, pulling out his wallet.

"Keep it for now," Sherlock said, pushing the money away. "I realised it'd be a poor show to take any money before you actually pass. Once that happens, we can use the money to go celebrate." He took a sip of tea. "We've got some food for lunch so let me know when you get hungry," he added, shifting in his chair. "What do you feel like doing?"

"Oh, all right," John said, putting his wallet away again. "Um, I haven't had breakfast so maybe we could eat now?" John asked.

"That works," Sherlock said, getting up. "To be honest, I was still in bed when I got your text. I've not eaten either. Should I make us a full English? We've got eggs, beans, bacon, tomatoes and toast. No black pudding though, but it's disgusting really. I mean, you might like it, but we've not got any." Sherlock started cooking. He slid a loaf of bread over to John and laid down a knife. "Cut some slices, would you?" He was trying to time things correctly: he normally only cooked for himself and rarely more than one item at a time. "So, what do you normally do at the weekends?" he asked. 

"Sometimes the team will meet for practice on Saturdays but with finals coming up we haven't been. Otherwise I'm usually just reading or on the computer. Boring," he shrugged. He sliced the bread up slowly as if it was the most important thing he'd ever done. "What about you?"

"Not much. The same really, except for the sport obviously. I like going for walks to get out of the house. I'll sometimes walk to the library, I like it there. If my parents are around, though, I mostly stay in my room. We can go up there after we eat. I mean, we could watch a film or something," Sherlock was trying not to be paranoid about every word he said. It'd be normal for friends to go to one of their rooms, wouldn't it? He was over thinking, because of what happened in his room last night. He tried to take a deep breath without John noticing. 

John smiled down at the counter when Sherlock said they could go up to his room. He sounded nervous and John felt a bit guilty for liking that. It made him feel a bit better about his own nerves. "That's fine. Um, if you don't mind me asking, how come you don't get along with your parents?"

"They're tedious," Sherlock said. "They just care about stupid things. Obviously you can tell," he moved his hand around the air, "money is pretty important to them. But it's not just the money, it's the people and activities that come with it. They love all that. I do not." Sherlock thought for a second. "I mean, I am grateful for my computer and things like that. But the dinner parties and pretentious people -- annoying."

"Oh. They don't try and spend time with you anyways? Find out what you're doing? Anything?" John asked. 

"Not really. We have to eat dinner together on Sunday and usually my mum says, 'And how was your week, Sherlock?' and I say "fine' and that's about that. I guess it's better than them hassling me all the time." Sherlock carried the plates over to the table. He set one down in front of John, saying, "I hope it's okay. I'm not a great cook."

"I'm sure it's fine," John smiled, pulling the plate closer. "We have a lot of frozen dinners so it's nice to have something homemade." John started on his meal and smiled wider. "It's good," he assured him. 

"To be honest, this is way more food than I usually eat in one meal, but I guess it's nice to have a big breakfast every once in a while," Sherlock took a few bites, but knew already that he'd never eat everything he had piled onto his plate. "So anything else you want to ask?" he asked, hoping this might give Sherlock insight into what normal kids talked about.

"Are you going to be studying chemistry at uni or are you just really good at it?" John asked. 

"I haven't decided yet what course I'm going to take," he said. "I'm pretty good at most subjects really, I don't mean to brag, but I want to choose something that's most interesting to me and I haven't decided on that yet. You want to be a doctor, then?"

"I -- yeah," John nodded. "How did you know?"

"I heard you talking to someone in class about it once . . . before we were friends, I mean. I just remembered, I guess," Sherlock said. "I wasn't eavesdropping, I just remember. Um, what does your sister do? Does she have a job?"

"She was working at Tesco before she left, but I was there the other day and they told me she got fired. I don't know where she is now. You have a brother, right? What's he do?" 

"Something tedious, no doubt. He's works in Westminster, I don't know what he does besides trying to climb the ladder of power, I'm sure. He's a pain. We never really got along," Sherlock pushed the food around his plate. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about families anymore, eh? It's depressing. What's something less depressing we can talk about? Believe it or not, I wish I knew about sports so we could talk about that. It'd be more cheerful, I think."

"Maybe with other people families would be okay to talk about. With me . . .well I'm sure you can guess why I got involved in a sport where I am habitually pummeled," John said, taking small bites of his food for something to do. 

"Can I ask one more family question, though? Do you ever fight back? You seem pretty strong. Have you ever fought back?" 

John shook his head. "He's . . ." What? Older? Stronger? His father? "I don't know. I can't," John shrugged, looking down at the table. He picked at a small spot on it.

"Fair enough," Sherlock said. "I suppose it's not so simple." He tried to look at John's face. "I wish you didn't have to deal with it. It's so stupid and unfair."

"Thank you for not pressing the issue. I'll be gone soon so . . ." John trailed off and offered him a small smile.


	3. Sherlock's House

Sherlock took his plate over to the sink. "Anyway, let's choose something else to talk about. What kind of movies do you like? Do you want to watch one in my room?"

"Um, action or horror films," he answered. 

"Hmm, that might be a problem. I have to be honest, I don't love movies like that. I hope that doesn't mean we can't friends anymore," he laughed a little.

"I'm sure we can compromise," John laughed. "What do you like?"

"I like classic movies and, well, it's embarrassing, but I kind of like stupid comedies as well. My brother says I only like them because I enjoy feeling superior, which may be true, but I can't help it, I kind of like them. We don't have to watch a movie if we can't agree on one. We could play a game or just keep talking . . . about something other than family, obviously."

"I don't mind what we do," John said. He felt like he was being very passive, but Sherlock could suggest they sit and stare at the wall all day and he would do it. He really liked spending time with Sherlock, even doing absolutely nothing. He felt comfortable and happy. 

"Well, let's go upstairs, I know something I could show you." Sherlock led John up to his room. He motioned for John to sit down on the bed, while he hooked his laptop up to the TV. "Do you care if I sit here as well?" he said, scooting in next to him. He started typing. "Maybe you've already seen this but I think it's quite interesting," scanning his search results for a video. "Here it is." As it loaded, he said to John, "Don't worry. It's not porn," he laughed awkwardly.

John flushed and laughed a bit awkwardly. "Too bad," he joked, immediately regretting it. "No, I--" he covered his face and shook his head. "No. I'm sorry," he said, forcing himself to look up. "What is it?" he asked, hoping it came out normal. He was already nervous before but at least he'd had his senses. Sitting on Sherlock's bed with him seemed to have driven him completely stupid. 

"Well, let's watch this and I'm sure we can find some porn for you after if that's what you want." Sherlock turned off all the lights and turned up the volume. He suddenly felt a bit weird about sharing this. John probably wouldn't think it was quite as cool as Sherlock did. "We don't have to watch it actually. It's kind of stupid, really."

"Sherlock, it's fine. What is it?" he asked again, for some reason talking a bit quieter now that the lights were off. 

"Well, I found this online and sometimes when I feel kind of stressed out, I watch it and I don't know why but I kind of like how it makes me feel." He felt incredibly stupid, but he kept talking. "Lean back, so you're kind of at an angle," Sherlock leaned back and pulled John's arm so he too was leaning against the headboard. "Now all you have to do is look at the center of the screen. Don't think about anything, just keep your eyes on the center of the screen. And then look away at the wall when it's over."

"Oh, okay," John nodded, recognising that it must be [**some kind of optical illusion**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YD0L7k3y-40). He fixed his eyes on the centre of the screen. The lines were mesmerizing. He forced himself not to blink despite the fact that his eyes stung. Suddenly the words flashed up and he looked away, gasping at what he saw. Everything he laid his eyes on was swimming and swirling.

Sherlock took a deep breath when the room went weird. He found it comforting somehow. Then he closed his eyes. "John. Did it work for you?" He kept his eyes closed.  

"Yes," John nodded, moving his eyes to as many things as possible. "That was really cool," he said. 

Sherlock's eyes were still closed. "I think the brain is amazing. Things like this just prove it. Plus I guess I just like one minute of not thinking about anything. He slid a little bit further down the bed. "I feel . . . relaxed, I guess," his voice was a bit dozy.

John nodded, slowly laying down as well. He stayed on his back, well on his side of the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. "It does have a calming effect."

"John," Sherlock said softly. He was doing his best not to think. "I had a wank yesterday and actually thought about a person. First time ever. It was . . . a guy. Do you think that means I'm gay after all?"

Goosebumps erupted all over John's body when Sherlock spoke his name so quietly. He flushed as he listened, surprised to feel a tightening in his stomach at the thought of Sherlock thinking about some other boy. _Did you want it to be you, Mister Not Gay?_ John rolled his eyes at himself before realising Sherlock was waiting for an answer. "Um . . . probably. You must really like him," John said.  

"I wasn't lying when I said what I said yesterday. It's literally never happened before so I don't know what to think. I don't know why it was him. I mean, I do like him but is this evidence that I _like him_ like him? Is this what you were describing yesterday?"

"I think you'd have to like him a lot to think about him like that," John said quietly. 

"I guess," Sherlock said, opening his eyes and looking up at the ceiling. "So I'm gay," he announced. "Weird. You said yesterday it's all fine. Can we still be friends now that it turns out I'm gay?"

"Of course," John said, glancing over. He couldn't see Sherlock but he didn't dare turn his head. 

"John, here's the thing. I don't know how to be gay. Do you think I should tell him? Should I tell him about what happened or tell him I like him or what?" Sherlock felt extremely stupid, but he also knew he'd probably never have a chance to talk to someone like this again. "I've been gay less than 24 hours and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What do you think? I know you're not gay, but . . . he's not gay either so should I say anything or not?"

"No," John shook his head. "It doesn't matter if he is gay as well. You can't just tell someone you did that thinking about them. Maybe when you're dating it would be okay, but if he doesn't feel the same way he's going to be a bit freaked out. That's a very intimate thing, you know?" John shifted and sat up again, leaning against the headboard. "Besides, if he is interested and you tell him you like him, but then realise you actually don't it could become messy. Maybe wait until you know for sure."

"But how will I know for sure? If I do it again? But . . . what if I just decide not to do it again? Does that mean I don't like him? And I'm not gay?"

"It doesn't matter what you decide to do -- it's about what you _want_ to do. You can resist the urge but that doesn't mean it goes away." Before John had been envious of how easily Sherlock had announced his sexuality, but now he saw Sherlock was just as confused as John was. What a pair, indeed. 

"We'll see, I guess," Sherlock said. "Maybe I won't feel like doing it at all or maybe I'll go back to the way I used to do it and think about nothing instead. Anyway, thanks for talking to me about this. For someone who's not an expert, you seem to know a lot. I appreciate it. Perhaps I should be paying you for tutoring me on this subject?" he elbowed John, trying to lighten the mood.

John chuckled and shook his head. "What are friends for?" he asked, turning his head to look at Sherlock. 

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "I've never really had one." He shifted his body so he was facing John. "You're kind of my first one."

John stared back, his eyes moving over Sherlock's face. "Sorry," he teased. 

Sherlock kept looking on John. "John," he said but then didn't know what else to say. So he just smiled softly.

John turned onto his side as well, watching Sherlock. This would never happen at his team mates' house. This was so much better. "Why did you move from your other school?" he asked quietly.  

"I was asked to leave. I had an issue with the physics teacher and the head called my parents and suggested I move elsewhere. It's not the first time it's happened. I just have to make it through this year. That's why I'm always skiving so I don't get tempted to 'cause a scene'."

"What kind of issue?" John asked. 

"He was wrong about something and I just let him know," he said vaguely. "I apparently had a tone and was unwilling to shut up when told to shut up. Just imagine the tone I'll have now that I know I'm gay," he laughed.

John laughed. "You were rude to a teacher and they kicked you out for that?" 

"Well, it was a little more complicated than that," Sherlock said, not wanting to say more. "Anyway that's how the Holmes family handles things anyway. Just send it away and it's no longer a problem."

"Well, now you have to behave because I have to pass chemistry," John teased. 

"You will, don't worry." Suddenly Sherlock felt an urge: an urge he'd literally never felt before. He felt an urge to kiss John. He didn't. But he was certain that's what he felt like doing. There was no doubt in his mind. He wanted to put his hand on John's hip, lean towards him, press his mouth against John's. _I guess this proves it_ , he thought to himself. He wondered how his life would be different now.

He put it out of his head. "Anyway," he said, "I'm sick of dealing with that kind of stuff, so I'll be good. I just want it over."

John nodded. "You're going away for university, right?" John waited nervously for the answer. A week ago he didn't even know Sherlock and now the thought that they would be separated almost scared him. He definitely didn't feel good thinking about it.  

"I presume," Sherlock said. "Let's be honest. I'm likely to get in anywhere I choose. I've just not bothered looking because I don't know what I want to do yet."

"You should come with me and help pass that chemistry as well," John said. He could care less about chemistry, but he couldn't very well tell Sherlock to go with him so they could be together. Could he? He didn't think friends said things like that. 

"All right then. I'll go wherever you go and just follow you around like a puppy, explaining chemical formulas whenever you need me to. For five quid an hour, obviously," he laughed.

"An hour? It was five a day before!" John laughed. 

"Yeah but the work will be more difficult, so the price will go up. Be realistic, John." He shoved at John again. He realised he'd now done that a few times. He probably shouldn't, especially now that he was gay. "Sorry, I'm just kidding."

" _You_ be realistic," John said, shoving him back. "My own friend taking money from me for a bit of homework help." He shook his head in mock disapproval. "The shame!"

Sherlock shoved John's shoulder this time. "I wasn't your friend when you asked. I was a complete stranger. You shouldn't be going around making deals with strangers. It could get you in trouble."

"I'm a dangerous man," John laughed. "I live for trouble." And he shoved Sherlock a bit harder. 

Sherlock leaned over and pinned John's shoulders down. "You might be stronger than me but I've got wits on my side. Don't forget about the physics teacher. He was stronger than me too."

"You fought him?" John asked, trying to push Sherlock off. He was much stronger than he looked. 

Sherlock looked down at John. He had the urge to kiss him again, but what was worse is that he felt himself starting to get hard. He moved away, shifting back to where he had been lying, but turning his body away a bit. "No, not really," he said.

John blinked at the sudden change in his mood, wondering if he'd said something wrong. He looked over at Sherlock and didn't know what to say. "Oh," he offered lamely, sitting up again. 

Sherlock was trying to concentrate on his breath, trying to make it go away. "So do you want to watch a movie or something?" he tried to make his voice sound normal. When it went away, he sat up and said, "Sorry . . . my stomach went a bit weird for a minute."

"That's okay," John shook his head. "Um, yeah, a movie is fine."

Sherlock motioned towards a shelf. "Those are my DVDs or we could find a movie on the web. Or that porn you were interested in," he said.

"I wasn't -- that was a joke," he stammered. 

"I know," Sherlock said. "I was joking, too." When John stood up to check out the films, Sherlock looked at him. He tried to imagine having sex with him -- that must be what he'd want if he was gay, right? he thought. He couldn't really imagine it. But he could imagine kissing him and their bodies touching. He felt a little twinge in his cock. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he shouldn't have John in his bedroom until he was clearer on what these feelings meant. Just because he wanted this didn't mean it was such a great idea. "Don't feel bad if there's nothing there you like, I know my tastes are unusual," he said, shifting on the bed to readjust himself.

John was looking at the movies but his mind was elsewhere. He had felt Sherlock. Just for one second before he moved away. He thought he'd imagined it, but Sherlock was clearly trying to cover something up. He picked a box at random and handed it to Sherlock, trying not to look. He couldn't figure out how it made him feel. He did know that he wasn't upset. 

Sherlock slipped the DVD into the laptop and started the film. He shifted on the bed, leaving room if John wanted to sit back where he had been. "I've seen this a thousand times," he said, "it's brilliant." He relaxed a little and leaned back.

"I've never seen it before," John admitted, sitting back on his side of the bed.

"I hope you like it," Sherlock said. "I feel like we should have popcorn or something."

"Do you have any?" John asked.

"No, sorry," he said. "Anyway, pay attention to this part, it's important." This time he nudged John softly. It was still a touch but seemed more normal. 

John rallied up some courage and turned a bit, leaning against Sherlock. "There's no pillow," he said quietly, getting comfortable against him.

Sherlock liked the feeling of John against him, but he worried about it happening again. He tried to concentrate on the film, tried to picture himself as the character. He sat silently.

John couldn't keep his mind from racing. He liked Sherlock a lot. The thought was immediately followed by his dad's voice, shouting at him worse things than he'd said to Harry. Slowly John moved off of Sherlock and rested on his elbow.

Sherlock missed the pressure of John on his shoulder the minute that John moved away. He wanted to pull him back, push their bodies together. But he didn't. Instead he said, "The soundtrack is perfect, don't you think?" He realised he was whispering even though he didn't know why.

"Yeah, I really like it," John said quietly. "I like the movie," he added.

Sherlock felt relaxed during the rest of the film. It felt good lying on the bed with John watching the telly, he decided he didn't even care if it was normal or not, it felt natural. When it ended, Sherlock noticed the clock. "What time did you say you had to leave?" he asked. "I mean, I don't want you to go but I'd feel horrible if, you know, something happened because of me."

"Five. When he works late he usually stays until seven but just in case," he shrugged. John hoisted himself up so he was sitting again.

"I wish you could stay the night," Sherlock said. "I mean, I wish you didn't have to go. But just keep an eye on the time because I don't like it when you rush out, it feels weird. Even though I now know why, I still always feel like maybe I've done something wrong."

John nodded. "I'll change the alarm to four thirty and we can have a half hour to say bye," he said.

"What do you want to do? Shall I make us some more food before you go?" Sherlock realised that he'd probably literally do anything John suggested. He could say he wanted to play sport and Sherlock would give it a go. He just liked being in John's presence.

"Do you do experiments here? I feel like you're so good at chemistry that you might," John said. Surely school couldn't be the only thing to talk about but family was off limits and John needed to learn more about Sherlock.

Sherlock sat up. "I do sometimes. Well, yes, I do," he answered. "But they're kind of . . . gross. My mum's made me do them in the shed because they sometimes . . . stink. Do you want to see? I could use a fag anyway." He stood up, took the DVD out of the laptop and turned off the telly.

"Yes I would," John nodded, getting up as well.

Sherlock led John down the stairs, through the French doors and into the back garden. He lit up a cigarette. "It's gone a bit chilly," he said as he reached into his pocket for his keys. He unlocked the shed door, and he and John went inside. One wall was lined with shelves that held scientific-looking equipment; against the other was a tall bureau with lots of drawers and a radio sitting on top, which Sherlock flipped on. In the center was a table covered with papers. "Well, this is it," he said, awkwardly.

John shivered lightly as they walked across the yard, nodding his agreement. "You shouldn't smoke," he added, making sure his voice was light and half teasing. In the shed he looked around and smiled. "Where's the gross stuff?" John smiled.

"Get back to me on the smoking stuff after you've become a doctor," Sherlock said, smiling. "I've not been working on anything this week, if I'm honest. But once my father brought me home a pig's carcass to dissect and that was quite gross but extremely interesting."

"Where did he get that?" John asked in awe.

"A farmer, I presume," Sherlock said. Suddenly he felt stupidly weird again.

John moved further into the shed and examined the shelves and the books and the papers scattered on the table. He imagined putting Sherlock up on that table and kissing him and the he flushed, looking away from it quickly. He didn't have anything like this to share with Sherlock. "I'm realising that I am painfully boring," he mused. 

"Don't pretend this is interesting, John," Sherlock said. "It's weird. Besides, you hate chemistry. If you're honest, you probably can't imagine anything more boring than doing chemistry in your free time."

John shook his head. "I hate chemistry because I don't understand it. But when you understand something, especially if you're good at it, you should like it. You should be proud of it. The fact that, on your own free will, you can make experiments like this is fascinating. The only thing I can do is read faster than average," he laughed softly.

"Listen," Sherlock said, "I know I don't know everything about you, but here's the thing: I don't like boring people. But obviously I like you. So you're clearly not boring. I'm sure you have talents, you shouldn't belittle them."

John looked up and met his gaze, smiling warmly. "Well, hopefully I can live up to whatever it is you've seen," he said. Just then his alarm went off, sounding much too loud in the small shed. "Sorry," John said, scrambling to turn it off.

Sherlock stubbed out his cigarette. "We've got a half hour, yeah? Let's have a cup of tea before you go." He headed back to the house, locking the shed before they left. He switched the kettle on and set out some biscuits. "So what will you do for the rest of the night?"

"Probably reading. I'll cook dinner later, that's all," John shrugged.

"Seems daft that we'll both be on our own but just can't be together," Sherlock said, bringing over the tea. "Why does your dad care so much who's gay and who isn't?"

John shrugged again. "He never really voiced it before -- just comments under his breath if the topic came up. And then Harry came out and he lost it," he said. John looked down at the table before continuing. "The night she did it he was so mad he . . . well, I missed school the next day. Now it's only when he has reason to suspect I might have been with another boy. I thought he'd make me quit playing rugby but I think he's realised it's a good cover. And with the coach there we won't be having orgies on the field."

"That's just crazy . . . driving both of you away. It's sad," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry you have to go through it. I wish I could do something to help, but I worry that I'm just going to make things worse . . . our being friends and all . . . especially now that we know I'm that way. I don't want to make things worse, John."

"You won't," John assured him. "He -- I hate saying this but -- he doesn't have to know. I'm not ashamed of being friends with you and I know it's not fair but it's . . . him," John said quietly.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I still just wish it was all . . . different. I hate thinking about you having to deal with it. At least my parents just leave me be." Sherlock looked at John and just wanted . . . just wanted everything to be different. "I know it's probably irrelevant, but now that you've been here, you can come back anytime. I mean it. Anytime."

John smiled and felt his cheeks flush lightly as he nodded. "Thanks, Sherlock," he said quietly, sipping at his tea a bit too quickly.

"I'm glad you texted. I'm glad you've come over," Sherlock took a drink. He reached in and took out a fiver from his wallet. "Here, let me give you the money for the taxi. I feel bad it costs you money to come see me. In fact, here," he handed him a twenty instead, "Keep this in a special place, don't spend it. Then you'll always have escape money in case . . . you need to escape." He tried to give John a smile.

John shook his head, pushing the money back across the table. "I like hanging out with you so I don't mind getting a cab," he insisted. "I'm not going to take your money -- especially when I still owe you!"

"Then hold it for me. In case I run out of fags at school and don't have any money on me. Just keep it in your wallet for me." He slid it back. "Please."

John sighed and took the money. "You should know that I would never let you buy cigarettes if you didn't have any," he smiled softly. After stuffing it away he got up and, feeling a bit awkward, pulled Sherlock into a hug. "Thank you," he murmured. When he pulled back he wouldn't look at Sherlock. "I should go now." 

Sherlock felt warm when John hugged him but when John pulled away, Sherlock grabbed his arm. "Don't," he said softly. "Don't rush off. Make it a proper goodbye," he waited for John to look at him and then smiled. "Here, take the biscuits. Eat them once you've gone to bed. For a nice end to the day." He wrapped them in some kitchen roll and stuffed them into John's coat pocket.

John felt a bit overwhelmed as he took the biscuits. All the things he'd heard about Sherlock floating around at school and no one even knew. He had the sudden wild urge to kiss him, and as he slowly moved to the door he wished Sherlock would lock him in and refuse to let him go. But that was crazy. It was all too much to think about at the moment. "Thanks again," John said as he left.

Sherlock watched John walk out and the taxi pull away. He took out his phone.

_I know you said not to tell him until I'm sure. I'm sure. It was you. SH_


	4. Regrets

John felt his phone vibrate and smiled, knowing it would be Sherlock. But when he saw the message his stomach tightened and he bit his lip. What was he supposed to say back? His own feelings were shoved aside by his father's voice. How could they be together? Sneaking around? They could hardly be friends that way. The voice that wasn't his father's was reminding him that he could move in with Sherlock. That they could be together very easily. He realised that he was crying and he shook his head, stuffing his phone away. He needed to think.

Sherlock stood at the door for a while, just looking out. He went back to the kitchen and tidied up. Then he went up to his room and lay on his bed. He wasn't certain of anything now. This morning he was nothing, now he was gay. This morning he liked John, now apparently he loved him. It was all confusing. He wasn't sure if he should regret anything. He didn't think he did. He always preferred being honest, even if it meant he ended up on his own, which he usually did. He probably would again, he felt that in his stomach. At least he could remember this day. He turned over on his side, looking at the place on the bed where John had lay beside him. He wondered what would have happened had he reached out and touched John as he had imagined, if he had kissed him. Maybe that was what he regretted -- not doing it. He closed his eyes and slid his hand over on the bed. He tried to clear his head and just remember how nice it had felt being with John.

As soon as John got home he hurried up to his room, not even registering the fact that his dad wasn't home yet. Later he'd be thankful for that because his eyes were still red and he was empty handed. John's mind was racing with the conversation he'd had with Sherlock. _You must really like him to have thought of him like that._ He flushed and shook his head, feeling like he'd been tricked. _I'm sure. It was you._ John pulled his phone out and opened the message, stared at it for several minutes and then tossed it on the bed. That was very unfair of him to spring it on John like that, especially when John had told him he liked girls. _But you don't. You thought about him on that table._ "Shut up!" John growled. When he turned back around, he saw Sherlock's money on the ground and he picked it up, crumpling it up and tossing it behind the bed. He felt . . . dirty having it now, as if Sherlock had paid him for helping him get off. _You know that's not true._ John felt his stomach turn with guilt and he sank down onto his bed. Had he led Sherlock on? Lying down in his bed, hugging him, leaning against him during the movie . . . "Fuck," John sighed, falling back onto his bed. He pulled his phone close and opened the message again. 

 _Why would you tell me that?_ Delete. _I told you I'm not gay._ Delete. _I'm sorry I made you think--_ Delete. John sighed and dropped the phone again. He wasn't thinking clearly and he was not going to send a message he might regret. He would answer later.  

Sherlock had fallen asleep. When he woke he could hear noise and movement in the house. He stayed in his room. He looked at his phone. It wasn't flashing. He picked it up anyway, to double check. Nothing.

Now he was filled with regret. It was John himself who had said not to tell. _You can't just tell someone you did that thinking about them. . . if he doesn't feel the same way he's going to be a bit freaked out._ Surely Sherlock had made John freak out. God, no wonder Sherlock had no friends. He had only told John for selfish reasons, he hadn't even thought about how it would affect him. John's dad hurt him because he thought he was gay and John wasn't even gay. And now Sherlock was involving John in . . . whatever was happening to him? It was selfish.

_I'm sorry. SH_

He sent the text before realising that even doing that was selfish. John was freaked out and wouldn't want to see him, wouldn't want anything from him anymore, even his apology.

Sherlock heard a knock on his door. "You in there?" he heard his father say.

"Yeah, in bed reading," Sherlock mumbled.

"Are you in for the night then?"

"Yes."

"We're going out. See you tomorrow."

He heard his father's footsteps walk away. Sherlock turned off the light and just lay in the dark silence.

John heard the buzz against his bed and he turned his head, staring at the phone. He knew it was Sherlock again without even looking. But of course he looked. John bit his lip at the message. He was being very selfish. Sherlock had expressly told him that he didn't know what he was doing, what he was feeling. He had opened up to John and now John was ignoring him, unwilling to help. The time passed with his mind arguing -- going between texting Sherlock, running back over to his house, or switching schools and changing his name. He was pulled from his thoughts by the door slamming downstairs. He sighed in relief that he'd got home when he did.    
  
"John! Where are you?" 

John sat up and turned his phone off, leaving it upstairs as he went to find his dad. "I was upstairs reading."

"Get in here," he said, pacing in the sitting room. "My boss is coming over here for dinner next weekend so I don't want the place looking such a mess." John looked around the room and didn't bother mentioning that there was nothing to clean up. John kept his things upstairs in his room. Besides some junk mail on the coffee table, everything was kept up. "He's got his daughter that weekend and he won't leave her home alone so you're taking her out."

"What?" John asked, biting back the rest of that when his dad shot him a glare. "I just mean . . . because exams are coming up and I wanted to study . . ."

"For Christ's sake John, it's a girl. It's not like you've got them lining up out there. You're taking her out," he said again. "And get to the shop this week and get something decent for dinner -- something I can make."

John nodded, waited to see if there would be more, and then went back up to his room. Immediately he grabbed his phone to tell Sherlock but he was reminded of the messages. Oh. He sighed and let his hand flop down on the bed. Perhaps a good night's sleep would help him figure things out. _There's nothing to figure out. You're gay. You like him._ John ignored the voice, changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. It was only eight o'clock, but he knew he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. Every few minutes he opened his phone and reread the messages as if they had changed. It was going to be a long night.  

Sherlock held his phone in his hand, urging it to make a noise. But it didn't. He hated himself. And hated John's father.

Eventually he fell asleep. He dreamt he was at school but couldn't find John. He even asked the teachers, but no one had heard of John Watson. He left school and walked into the city centre. When he passed the cafe, he was sure he saw John. He rushed in and grabbed the boy's shoulder, but when he turned around it wasn't John. But the boy's face was badly beaten. The boy said, "Why did you do this to me?"

Sherlock sat up, wide awake. He was sweating and felt sick to his stomach. He looked at his phone, which was still tightly gripped in his hand. Nothing.

He tried to go back to sleep. But he couldn't get images of what could be going on at John's out of his mind. Perhaps his father had found out John had come to Sherlock's? Maybe he saw Sherlock's text? What was he thinking? Sherlock's selfishness could have put John in danger. He hated himself again. He stayed hating himself until he eventually fell asleep.

Sunday morning, the first thought Sherlock had was of John. He hoped that he was okay, that his father hadn't . . . He knew John hadn't texted -- the phone stayed in his hand all night and Sherlock knew it would have woken him. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to face the day.

John had a strange dream that night. He was going back to Sherlock's, sneaking into his shed to meet him but when he opened the shed door Sherlock was masturbating on the table. John gaped at him in shock and when Sherlock saw him he tilted his head as if he was confused. 'This is what you wanted, right?' John shook his head as Sherlock moaned his name loudly, finally waking John up with a loud gasp. He didn't remember falling asleep and looking out of his window he could tell it was very early in the morning. He sighed and lay back down, feeling very flushed. At some point he fell asleep again but it wasn't very deep. He was just barely aware and unable to rest. 

 _You're really being an arse._ That was the first thought to cross John's mind when he woke up the next morning. His stomach turned guiltily again. He knew he was being an arse. He put himself in Sherlock's position and knew that if it were him he'd be freaking out. Maybe he could pretend he never got the messages. He could delete them and say there had been a problem with his phone. But what if Sherlock said something to him when they saw each other? There would be no getting out of it then. _You shouldn't be trying to get out of it now._ John really hated that logical voice, especially when it was right. Pretending he hadn't received the messages would be just as hurtful as ignoring them like he was now. His dream drifted into his mind again and he turned over, pressing his face into the pillow. What the hell was he going to say when he saw Sherlock? Would Sherlock be mad at him for ignoring the messages? Was this the end of their friendship? His chest tightened uncomfortably at the thought.  

Sherlock looked at the clock. He had an hour until dinner. He got up, showered and dressed. He was not looking forward to have to sit at the table with his family. He didn't want any questions but so much was going on in his head, he wasn't sure he could just pretend. But he knew he'd have to. He picked up his phone.

_I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told. I hope you're okay. SH_

He put his phone in his drawer and went down to face his family.

When John went down to have breakfast with his dad, he left his phone upstairs. He didn't want it going off and having to answer questions. They ate quietly and when John finished, he went upstairs again. He wished he could take a walk to clear his head but there was nothing open on a Sunday, and his dad would wonder where he was really going, who he was meeting, and all of his excuses would fall on deaf ears. He was in no mood to fight with him today. He put some music on in his room and caught the blinking on his phone. He hesitated opening the message. Fuck. How had that thought not crossed his mind during all of this? He spent an entire day telling Sherlock how his father beats him and then he goes silent for a whole weekend. God knows what Sherlock was thinking. He looked out of the window suddenly as if he expected the police to be pulling up, but it was still and quiet. 

_I haven't been hit. -JW_

The second he sent the message he wished he could take it back. What a stupid thing to do. After ignoring him all this time and now he sends that short, choppy message that doesn't even vaguely hint towards his feeling about Sherlock's admission, towards his apologies. He really was the worst type of person. Should he send something else? What? His eyes started burning again and he hated how messed up everything had become. Was it really only yesterday they were watching movies and drinking tea? What the hell was wrong with him? He remembered the biscuits in his coat and he got up to get them. He lay back down, opened up the wrapping and nibbled on them. 

Sherlock went into the kitchen and asked his mother if she needed any help. She said she didn't. He went through to the dining room and joined his father who was reading the newspaper. His mother brought through the food. Sherlock took a little of everything. His mother was a good cook, he had to admit that. He smiled at her. She asked his father to put down the paper, which he did. They began speaking about last night. Sherlock let his mind go, he stared at his food like it was the video from yesterday. He stared and stared, imagining that it was spinning but when he looked away, everything was normal, the same.

"You had a friend round yesterday?" his father asked.

"You ate all the bacon," his mother said by way of an explanation.

"I did," Sherlock answered.

"It's nice you've got a friend," his mother said. "Isn't it nice?" she said to Sherlock's father.

"While you were lounging this morning, I was craving bacon," his father said.

And that was the extent of the conversation. Sherlock tried to finish the food on his plate. Then he picked it up and stood. "I've got work," he said as he passed his mother on the way to kitchen.

"Don't work too hard," she said.

Sherlock returned to his room. He glanced at the drawer holding his phone, but didn't open it. He sat at his desk and did his homework for the week. He was able to not think of John until he got to his chemistry assignment. He thought about how stupid it'd been to show John the shed, how stupid it'd been to tell John anything. Sherlock was just too . . . strange for other people. If Sherlock was gay, he'd just have to be gay by himself.

Sherlock decided to play his violin for a while. He sat at the window and tried to lose himself in the music. Eventually he packed it up and decided to get into bed, although it was ridiculously early. He pulled out his phone to set his alarm. He saw John's text and felt enormously relieved. He may have lost John's friendship but at least John hadn't been hurt because of him.

Later that afternoon John actually did some homework, stumbling his way though chemistry. His phone lay close by but it was silent. He couldn't expect an answer after the way he'd been acting, but he definitely felt even guiltier. After doing his homework he lay down and forced himself to get some kind of organised thought going. Tomorrow, if Sherlock would let him, he would explain. First he would apologise for ignoring his messages. Then he would explain that . . . what? The reason he was freaked out was because he was fighting the fact that he liked it. He liked that fact that Sherlock thought of him that way because he had been thinking about Sherlock that way. But he couldn't. And he definitely couldn't say all of that to Sherlock. So what would he say tomorrow? 

In the morning, Sherlock's first thought was to skive. He couldn't help it: he was a Holmes and that's how they took care of problems, they just avoided them. But Sherlock also knew that if he didn't go today, it'd be even harder to go tomorrow and the next day and the next.

He walked slowly, looking at the ground mostly. He smoked four cigarettes which made his stomach hurt. His morning classes were tediously boring. He did his best not to think of John. He hoped he wouldn't see him. He wouldn't know what to say, he wouldn't even know where to look.

For the first time in his life John thought about skipping school, but he knew there was nothing he could do except go and face this. Subconsciously he avoided crowded areas and just told himself he hadn't chanced upon Sherlock. He ate lunch outside behind the school but as the day came to an end, he knew what he had to do. He couldn't go home without talking to him again. 

_Will you meet me behind the school please? -JW_

Sherlock felt his phone vibrate. He wasn't sure what to do. It had to be from John, no one else would contact him. He read the message and stared at it. Once again his first thought was just to take off. But he couldn't. He felt like he should see this through.

_Yes. SH_

John thought he was going to throw up. He tried to control his breathing as he slowly made his way to the back of the school. Once there he paced back and forth, running over lines in his head about how to start, what to say, trying to think of what Sherlock would say and trying to be ready for anything. He was shaking lightly and he hated that he let it get this bad. 

As Sherlock came around the corner, he saw John and he couldn't help smiling. He did like John so much and was so sorry that things had gone so terribly wrong. If they hadn't been talking about sex at the cafe, maybe what happened would have never happened and then he would have never said anything and things could have just stayed like as they were. He walked up to John.

John stopped walking and looked up at Sherlock a bit shyly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts and I'm sorry I made you worry and I'm . . . I'm just sorry," he said quickly. He looked down and waited for God knows what. Everything he had planned out disappeared at the sight of him, and he was left just rambling like a fool.

"John," Sherlock said. "John, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It was weird and I should have known better, especially since you yourself told me not to. It was stupid. I'm stupid. Like I said on Friday, I just don't know anything about this stuff and I shouldn't have been so . . . I was just glad for someone to talk to and I'm sorry I ruined everything."

John shook his head. "It's not ruined . . . I mean, I hope it's not ruined. I know you admitted personal things to me and I acted like a complete arse making you deal with them alone. I'm sorry," he said again.

"They were too personal to begin with and even worse because it had to do with you," Sherlock looked down at the ground. "It wasn't fair, I'm just bad at being friends with people, I don't know how to act."

John lifted his arm but thought it might be weird to touch him after what had happened so he lowered it again. He didn't want things to be awkward and perhaps fixing them just needed one of them to go first. "My dad is forcing me on a date next weekend," John said.

"I see," Sherlock said, "That's good then. Perhaps she'll be someone you like. And your dad won't hassle you anymore. Then everything will be okay for you."

"Yeah, I suppose," John said. _She won't be. Because I like you._ "Um, Sherlock, I really am sorry," he couldn't help saying it again. He wanted to hug Sherlock but didn't.

"Look, I've decided something. I've decided to go back to how I was before. You know, just being nothing. I won't be thinking of . . . anyone. It's just easier. I'm sure it's just because we were talking about it on Friday. I know I'm the one who brought it up and I appreciate your talking to me about . . . it, because obviously I've got no one else. But I think I'll just leave it for now. Can we just go back to how things were before? None of it matters anyway. Can you just pretend Saturday didn't happen and we can go back to studying chemistry and just be . . . normal with each other?"

John shook his head. "I had a lot of fun on Saturday," he said. "I'm not going to forget it. But I would like for things to be like before. Not just studying chemistry but . . . but you don't have to be nothing, Sherlock."

"I think perhaps it would be better, John, if I were nothing. My whole life I've been nothing and it's been . . . well not exactly fine but . . . workable. Something finally happens, something -- as you said -- intimate and I go inappropriately telling someone I've just become friends with? I don't think I'm cut out for that kind of stuff. I won't do it again, and I won't think about you. I promise, it's weird and I shouldn't have done it. I didn't mean to, it just happened. But it's not fair, just because you were nice to me, I shouldn't have used you like that. You aren't . . . you like girls and I don't want you to think that I'm doing it all the time, thinking of you like that, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. So I'm just going to leave all that behind and we can work on chemistry and find something other than sex or family to talk about it. There must be something."

"You were . . . learning. Please don't be nothing. Please. You think about whatever you want. Whoever you want. I just . . . we don't have to talk about it. Just . . . don't be nothing," John said desperately.

Sherlock couldn't understand why John cared, why it couldn't just be over. "Fine," he said, and what he meant was he was going to try not to think about it and if he got an erection again, he'd just deal with it then. But he wasn't going to say those things to John. He knew better now. "Fine," he said again, "everything can just be as it was." But all of a sudden, he knew -- even though that's what he wanted -- he knew it wouldn't, couldn't be. Some line had been crossed and even if John said everything was the same, it wasn't. It was different. The voice in Sherlock's head said _I told you so -- I told you things go wrong_ , and Sherlock knew the voice was right.

But Sherlock didn't need to tell John any of this. If they were going to stay friends, Sherlock would have to work harder at remembering not to share things that were intimate. He preferred honesty, but saying nothing wasn't the same as lying. He'd just have to keep more to himself. But he also knew he was going to tell a lie now. And he did, "Look, I'm really sorry about this, but I can't really do any studying this week. I mean, I don't know if you still wanted to, but I can't. I've got to get straight home. You can copy my chemistry homework if you want, I don't want your grade to suffer. I just don't think I can meet for a couple days." He shuffled his feet. He knew what he was doing: he was avoiding. But he thought maybe it was okay, that it would be good for him to get things straight in his head before he was alone with John again. Just because he was avoiding doesn't mean he was doing what his family always did -- instead he was trying to be sensible. "So I should probably get going. Text me if you have a problem with chemistry, yeah?"

"Oh," John said quietly, looking down at the ground. "That's um . . . that's fine. I can't stay anyways." He'd ruined it. He finally found someone he actually liked spending time with and he'd ruined it. At least he had Saturday to remember. He had a strange feeling that if he left now he would never see Sherlock again except for chemistry, and then it would just be the back of his head if he managed to snag the seat behind him. "Um, I'll see you," he said, glancing up before he left. He didn't look back and he didn't wave; he just left. His stomach was heavy, his chest was tight and he was finding it hard to breath.  

As Sherlock walked home, he decided this was probably best. He'd hate going to school and not seeing John or seeing John and it making his stomach hurt, but the truth was he already hated going to school anyway. It wouldn't be that different, he guessed. He just had to get through this year and he'd go away to uni. He could be alone there, he could be nothing there and everything would be tolerable again. That's what he should be thinking about, that should be his plan. He stopped into the cafe and got a cup of tea.

"Where's your friend?" the woman asked.

"He's not my friend," Sherlock answered, "he's just a kid from school."

He took his tea to a booth but suddenly his stomach was hurting quite badly. He drank it as quickly as he could and took the empty mug back to the counter. He smiled weakly at the woman -- he didn't want to seem rude -- and said, "I'm off. Have lots of work to do" and left. He went straight home.

Perhaps he really was getting sick. Perhaps all this weirdness in his stomach was flu or a bug and none of it had to do with John or their friendship or what was left of their friendship. Sherlock decided to believe that, or at least try to believe that. He took his temperature and it was a bit above normal, only a degree, but that was enough. Yes, Sherlock was poorly. An illness is what had caused all of this -- the rolling of his stomach, his weird attachment to John, maybe even the erection and what he thought about when he wanked -- clearly the illness was affecting his body and his mind. Yes, that was it. It had to be.

Sherlock had a scientific mind and knew how to take care of himself when he was ill. He went into the kitchen and got an orange and a glass of water. He took them up to his room. He peeled and ate the orange at his desk, while he checked his blog which had received three views but no comments. He drank the water to keep himself hydrated. Then he put on some soft music, closed his curtains and got into bed. It was only five o'clock; he knew this would only be a nap so he didn't bother setting his alarm. He closed his eyes and did his best not to think of anything except the illness in his body. He listened to the music and concentrated on the cells in his body, willing himself better, until he fell asleep.


	5. Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _This chapter contains scenes of physical abuse._  
> 

Sherlock woke up. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was one in the morning. He hadn't expected to sleep that long. He listened to the silence in the house. He assumed his parents were in bed, but he wished they weren't there. He wished he was all alone in the house.

Because he had an erection again. He had been dreaming and this time he remembered his dream, he knew it was about sex. And about John. He lay in bed and tried to make it go away. He thought about school, but thinking of school made him think about John. He tried to think about the relaxing video, but now that too was connected to John. His experiments were connected to John. Everything seemed to make him think of John. 

So he slid his hand under the covers and let himself think about John as he stroked himself. He thought about John lying next to him on the bed. He thought about reaching out, pulling John's body against him, kissing John's mouth. He thought about when he had leaned over John and pinned down his shoulders. He imagined climbing onto him, straddling his body and kissing him roughly. He imagined letting his weight rest on John's body, about moving his hips against John, about grinding into him. As his hand moved faster, he imagined realising that John was hard too and their bodies moving against each other and their mouths moving against each other and John saying Sherlock's name into his hair and both of them coming. And Sherlock came for real and he knew he liked it, he liked thinking of John and he liked John and as long as he never told John again, he knew he'd keep thinking of him. He knew now that instead of just waiting to wake up with an erection, he'd want to do it, he'd lay down on his bed and give himself an erection just by thinking about John. And even though it complicated everything, it was good because thinking of John made him feel good in many ways. He just had to promise himself that it would have to stay a secret.

John did a good job of keeping Sherlock out of his mind on his way home but the second he walked in the door and realised that his dad was gone, he lost it. He stormed upstairs and threw his backpack and when that didn't make him feel better he pulled the books out and threw them at the walls, reveling in every satisfying thud against the walls. He threw his chemistry book the hardest, growling as it slammed against the door. 

He was panting slightly from the effort but he moved on to his bed and started punching the pillow. Who did Sherlock think he was anyways? Who _tells_ someone about wanking off to them? Especially after John had told him not to do that. It was weird and what the hell was John supposed to do about it? How could they hang out with that in the back of his mind? He threw the pillow across the room and swore loudly, realising just then that he had started crying. 

In the sudden calm a small voice sounded from the back of his mind. _You like him and it's all your fault it's ruined._ John started crying harder. It was his fault. He was the one afraid of admitting he was gay. He was the one fighting away the fact that he liked Sherlock. Sherlock was brave enough to not only admit his feelings but to act on them. He closed his eyes and thought about Sherlock wanking in his room, calling his name. He blinked his eyes open as he felt himself getting hard. 

He went with it. What else was he supposed to do? Maybe if he saw this all the way through, he would realise that he was wrong. He could put Sherlock out of his mind and it would be done. He lay back and stuffed his hand into his pants, stroking himself hard. It hurt a bit but he didn't care. He closed his eyes and thought about them lying on Sherlock's bed, Sherlock tackling him and specifically Sherlock's erection pressing into his thigh. He came before he could go any farther. 

He pulled his hand out and felt ashamed, his stomach tight with guilt. What was wrong with him? How pathetic was he, wanking as he cried about Sherlock? He curled up under the covers and cried himself to sleep. When he woke up again he heard his dad moving around the house. For one second John was seized with the wild idea of telling his dad about Sherlock. Maybe he could beat it out of John. Then he remembered the date. 

He pulled himself up and went downstairs, intending to ask where he was going to be taking this girl. But his dad took one look at him and frowned. 

"Have you been crying?" he snapped. 

"What?" John asked stupidly, knowing that his eyes were red. "No!"

His dad came over and grabbed him roughly by the shirt, shaking him hard. "Have you been crying?" he growled. 

"No, I --" John cut off as his dad hit him hard across the face, tossing him backwards. He just barely kept his balance. 

"You're a bloody man, John. Get the hell out of my sight until you can act like one," he said angrily. John was on the verge of starting again so he hurried upstairs and shut the door, leaning against it. His face was burning and he pulled out his phone, ready to text Sherlock before all of that flooded back. He threw his phone against the wall and climbed into bed, crying himself to sleep again.    

The next day at school Sherlock skipped chemistry. He didn't want to risk interacting with John. It's not that he didn't want to see him; obviously he wanted nothing but to see John. But he was afraid it'd be awkward. And he was afraid John would know he'd done it again. He would just avoid him as long as he could. But Sherlock accidentally saw John from down the hall and it looked like John had a new mark on his face. Immediately Sherlock's stomach dropped. He left the school and walked to the road to have a cigarette. He thought about what to do and took out his phone. He tried to compose a text that wasn't a lie but wasn't the whole truth. What he wanted to say was that he had been thinking about John but John would probably think he meant while masturbating and, of course, he had thought of John while masturbating. He needed to say something that a friend would say, but the problem was he was pretty sure that the pull he felt when he saw John's injuries was related to love, not just friendship. He carefully chose his words.

_Hope you're doing okay today. Sorry I missed chemistry. Maybe I can borrow your notes. Sorry we can't study together. Talk to you soon. SH_

He read it over. It didn't really say what he wanted it to say, but nothing in it was a lie. He hit send and decided not to go back in. He walked to the city centre.

In chemistry John sat all the way in the back but it didn't matter. Sherlock didn't even show up. John figured he was out walking through the town, chain smoking his way along. He looked towards the window and contemplated skipping the rest of the week. But they might call the house if his attendance slipped and he couldn't have that. Maybe he'd just skip the afternoon and get to the phone store. His was no longer working after his tantrum yesterday which still made him feel ashamed when he thought about it. He'd been so stupid to throw it. He vaguely wondered if Sherlock was texting him. It had occurred to him this morning that they were technically still friends. Weren't they? John didn't know how to be, and in a way he was glad they were both on the same page about simply avoiding each other. Great friends.

Sherlock stopped in at the post office and posted a letter. Then he walked through Waterstones, looking at books. He was on the second floor when he realised his hand had been holding his phone in his pocket the whole time. It hadn't vibrated but he pulled it out anyway to double check. Nothing. What if John's dad had found his phone, saw the text about them meeting and that's why John was hit and why he didn't respond. Or maybe it was simply that John was ignoring him? Yesterday's chat wasn't exactly a normal one. Maybe he was just sick of all of it. _See_ , said the voice in his head, _you've ruined it for good -- either way, it's ruined_. Sherlock hated that voice in his head, especially because it was usually right. In the long run, he'd prefer John was just ignoring him. It made his stomach hurt but he'd feel worse if he was to blame for something John's dad did.

_Anyway, sorry to bother you. See you around. SH_

He turned off his phone and walked over to the cafe.

After lunch John left the school, walking into town for the phone store. He didn't know how much it would cost and he didn't want to use anything on the cab until he was sure he could get a phone. He brought his old one in and was thankful that they could transfer his numbers over. The phone cost more than he expected, forcing him to use the emergency money in the hidden pocket of his wallet. He'd have to fill that up again soon. With a sharp pain he remembered Sherlock's money and shook his head. He wouldn't use that. In fact, he should give that back along with what he owed Sherlock for the tutoring. He was half way home when his phone vibrated, bringing up two messages from earlier. He stopped walking and stared down at them, guilt twisting his stomach.

_My phone broke and I had to get a new one. Sorry I missed these. You can use my notes at lunch tomorrow. -JW_

He hesitated before he pressed send, quickly stuffing his phone away again and walking faster towards home.

After two cups of tea, Sherlock walked back home. He went straight to his room and checked his blog. He hadn't written anything new in over a week and he had no new ideas today either, so he lay back on the bed and watched his video a few times. He wondered if he could watch it for thirty minutes straight, maybe his brain would permanently see hallucinations and then he'd have a physical reason for feeling so weird all the time. But he couldn't do it: after about five minutes, his eyes hurt and started watering and as he wiped at them, he realised he felt like crying for real -- not because his eyes hurt, but because his heart did. He set his laptop aside, turned on the bed and covered his face and cried.

When John got home he went straight upstairs, avoiding his father all together. He kept checking his phone but there was nothing new. He pulled out his homework and set to work, doing extra chapters to prepare for the week. He was going to skip the next couple days and go back on Friday for chemistry again. He'd leave in the morning so his dad wouldn't suspect anything and he'd just hang around the town until it was time to come home.

When John was finally finished, he went to the kitchen and made himself something to eat, doing so quickly so he would be back upstairs when his dad came home. Once back in his room he opened his laptop and found the video Sherlock had shown him. He watched it a few times before he simply couldn't anymore. On a whim he searched for Sherlock, trying to convince himself that he wasn't insane. He stumbled upon Sherlock's blog, sitting up now and pulling the computer closer. He went as far back as he could and spent the rest of the night reading all of his entries.

Eventually Sherlock got up. His body felt tense and tight. He decided to take a bath and ran the water as hot as he could take it. He stepped in and it almost burned his skin. He slid down as low as he could go and closed his eyes.  
  
The heat felt good on his muscles. He felt them start to relax. He wondered what John was doing. He hoped he was okay. He really did. He wished things were different, he wished he could have helped John in his situation. Isn't that why John spoke to him in the first place -- he wanted Sherlock to help him? Sherlock had done nothing to help him: he'd taken advantage of John's friendship by turning it sexual, he'd put John at risk with his dad, and he had ended up feeling sadder and more lonely than ever. He slipped deeper into the water, letting it fill his ears so he couldn't hear the world.

When the water started to cool, Sherlock slipped into his bed and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning he woke up at eleven, feeling confused. He grabbed his phone but realised he hadn't set his alarm before he fell asleep. He was surprised his parents hadn't woken him. But then he noticed the text from John. Well, at least he was alive. But it seemed kind of formal -- even their written communications now seemed awkward. He couldn't face anything. He slipped his phone into his drawer again and turned back over to try to go back to sleep.

John was half way through eating lunch at a cafe when he remembered Sherlock was supposed to use his notes. Swearing under his breath he sent a quick message.

_I won't be in school until Friday, you can use my notes then if you want. -JW_

He tucked the phone away and realised very suddenly that Sherlock didn't even need the notes. But he didn't care. It was a neutral thing they could talk about, a good reason to see each other. When he finished he pulled out the envelope from his pocket which had Sherlock's money in it. He'd intended to send it to his house but faltered at the post office when guilt clenched his stomach. Sherlock would surely be offended to get the money back, especially in such a cold way. John had chickened out and kept it. Maybe on Friday when they saw each other.

Sherlock stayed in bed as long as he could but eventually he had to move. He got up and dressed, deciding to take a walk. He grabbed his phone from his drawer and saw the text from John. He had forgotten all about the chemistry notes, which, of course, he didn't really need. Even though he wasn't in school either, Sherlock worried about why John wasn't. Was he hurt, were his injuries so bad? Whatever their relationship, Sherlock worried about John.

_Are you okay? Please tell me the truth. SH_

Even though he already had his coat on, he sat down at the kitchen table and stared at his phone, waiting.

John felt his heart drop when his phone vibrated. He couldn't help being excited that Sherlock had finally written back.

_Yes. Just didn't feel like coming in. -JW_

After he sent it he felt it might have been a bit short. He bit his lip and sent another one quickly.

_Thank you for asking. -JW_

Sherlock smiled in relief.

_I hope you haven't picked up this bad habit from me. SH_

He slipped his phone in his pocket and decided to walk into town. Without thinking, he kept his hand wrapped around his phone.

John smiled and answered back quickly.

_Better than smoking. -JW_

_I'd be obliged to share mine and I am too selfish. I am going to buy more right now. Shall I get a pack for you? SH_

_One? Don't make me laugh. I'm obviously on four packs an hour. -JW_

John was laughing by himself in the corner of the cafe.

Sherlock read the text as soon as it arrived. He smiled. This was so much better. He felt warm inside, despite the nip in the air. He headed to the cafe and then he saw John. He stopped. He wasn't sure what to do. He stepped to the side and sent a text.

_I'm glad you're okay. Just smoked three in a row. Off to the cafe for a nice tea to soothe my throat. SH_

Sherlock watched the window. He'd let John decide whether or not they should see each other.

John smiled and looked up through the window.

_I'm at the cafe. Are you far? -JW_

_A few minutes away. SH_

Sherlock took a few deep breaths. Just be normal, he told himself, before realising that was a stupid request. He changed it to just don't make things worse. He opened the door. The woman behind the counter smiled at him, knowingly, nodding towards John in the corner. "Hey," Sherlock said. He had been right about John's face on Tuesday -- he could see the remains of a mark that wasn't there on Saturday. However, at least there was nothing else new. "Can I sit with you?"

John looked up at the sound of Sherlock's voice and couldn't help grinning. "Yes, of course," he said, swallowing back his nerves.

Sherlock sat down. "You're a very bad boy for skiving. Even I am shocked by this terrible behaviour," he laughed. The woman brought Sherlock a cup of tea and he thanked her. "So do you still have that date this weekend? How are you feeling about it? Do you know anything about her?" Sherlock took a sip of the tea. This seemed an okay topic, a normal one. "Maybe she'll be perfect."

John shook his head. "I don't know her anything and I'm not looking forward to it," he said. "I just want it to be over already. And you're one to talk about skiving!"

"I don't get it. Why not look forward to it? I mean, I know it's a blind date, but it might be fun. And at least it'll be good with your dad. Maybe you'll fall in love," he said, making a heart with his hands.

"Stop that," John said, pushing his hands away. "That's exactly why I don't want to do it. You should have heard him -- 'they're not lining up out there'," John mocked.

"Your dad's a prick. . . sorry, John, but he is. Think about the girls at college. It'd be a nightmare having a queue of them following you around all the time," he said, trying to smile. "It'll be fine. I'm sure she'll like you. You're very likeable," he picked up the salt shaker and started fiddling with it.

"I don't want her to like me," John grumbled. He sighed and shook his head. 

"Whoa, back it up. If it works out, you'll avoid being hit, yet you don't want her to like you? Now I really don't get it."

John opened his mouth to answer but realised the mistake he made and tried to save it. "I don't want to keep dating this girl I might not like just because I'm afraid of my dad," he shrugged. _It has nothing to do with the fact that I want to be with you,_ he thought to himself.

"John, just relax, you haven't even met her yet. Maybe you'll both like each other or maybe she'll at least be cool enough to hang out with even if you're not into her. Just have a nice time. At least he'll know you're with a girl for the night." 

To be honest, Sherlock wasn't sure why John was quite so upset. It seemed like an okay plan: he'd prove to his dad he wasn't gay and who knows maybe he'd even get laid? But he didn't want to push it: obviously, John must have a good reason -- Sherlock didn't know the whole story about John's father and he was clearly afraid of him 

"Anyway, let's talk about something else," Sherlock pushed the salt shaker out of the way. "Why are you really skiving and why have you already decided to skive tomorrow?"

John gratefully agreed to the change of subject but to his horror it was to something much worse. "I-well-I was afraid of seeing you," he mumbled.

"John, I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say, please don't keep going on about it. It's humiliating to me. I thought we were just going to try to act like it never happened," Sherlock shifted in his seat, now wondering if he should have come in at all. "You don't have to worry about me . . . doing anything." Even as he said the words though, he felt guilty. Of course, he had done something. But that was on his own, he wouldn't do anything around John or even say anything about it to John. It was a secret and Sherlock was very good at secrets.

"No--oh, Sherlock, no," John said quickly, shaking his head. He even reached out and took his hand. "Sherlock, that's not why at all. I thought . . .after ignoring you all last weekend when you needed me, I thought that you were mad at me. And then you said you didn't want to study anymore -- well, that you couldn't but I assumed -- and I figured that I was right. But I like seeing you and I knew it was going to be hard . . . I'm sorry. That's not why, honestly." John knew that he was rambling but he wanted Sherlock to understand that he didn't care about that -- especially now that he had done it as well. 

"Okay," Sherlock said softly, "I believe you." He let his hand stay in John's. And then suddenly he asked, "Should we go hang out at my place?" Immediately he hated himself for asking. What was he doing? Wouldn't this complicate things again? Were his motivations suspect: just because of John's touch, was Sherlock trying to get him alone in his bedroom again? And if so, why -- just so he could get an erection or have something else to fantasise about? Was he turning into some kind of sex maniac? Was it too big of a risk to return to the scene of his crime? Yet he wanted John to come home with him. He couldn't bring himself to look at John. "I'm just thinking, your dad doesn't know me, we'd be out of the way, he couldn't see you out and about and not in school. You'd be safe at my house." That was it really; Sherlock wanted to make John feel safe. He wanted to be the one who made John feel safe.

John flushed at the word safe because he desperately wanted it, and he knew he could actually get it from Sherlock. He looked down at the table before checking the time. "There's only two hours left before school's out and I have to be home after. He doesn't work late today," he said. "Do you think that's enough time?"

"Why not? I'll get us a taxi there, it'll take ten minutes at most. It'd be nicer than staying here and . . . " _And what?_ he thought. _And maybe you could lie on my bed so I could wank over it later?_ "I mean, come on, let's just go." 

"Okay," John agreed, shouldering his backpack and following him out of the cafe. He wondered how he would feel going into Sherlock's room after what he'd done. How did Sherlock feel taking John in there? He mentally shook the thoughts away. He was not going to ruin this again.  

What was he doing? Sherlock thought as he walked with John to the taxi stand. They got into the back. Sherlock sat as far from John as he could -- he was already feeling guilty and he hadn't even done anything inappropriate yet. _God_ , he thought, _if you're so sure you'll do something wrong, why'd you invite John over?_ The cab dropped them off. They walked up to the door and Sherlock got out his key. He turned it in the lock but before he pushed open the door, he turned to John. "I feel kind of nervous," he said, "I don't know why, but I do." He hoped that wasn't too intimate of a thing to share, but it was honest and it somehow made him feel better to say it aloud.

"I do, too," John admitted, feeling better that Sherlock did as well. "It's going to be fine, yeah?

Sherlock smiled at John and pushed open the door. He picked up the post, flicked through and then slid an envelope into his pocket before setting the rest on the table. He switched on the kettle and asked, "Do you want any food? I could make something for you to take home for your dinner."

John shook his head. "I ate at the cafe," he reminded Sherlock. "I'll take some biscuits with me, though," he smiled. Those he could easily hide.  

"Right," Sherlock said, pouring the tea. "Should we go upstairs?" God, just saying the words made his stomach flip. They went upstairs and Sherlock pulled out his desk chair slightly in case John preferred to sit there. He sat down on the bed. "I've got some documentaries on DVD -- they're only an hour." He pulled his legs up under him.

"Okay," John nodded, climbing up onto the bed. His stomach rolled at the action but he had to act as normal as possible. He would just stay sitting up and not lie down or lean on Sherlock. Normal. 

Sherlock then stood up. "I won't make you watch a chemistry one, though I'm embarrassed to say I have some. Let's just watch a nature one." He put a David Attenborough programme in and got back on the bed. He leaned back a little, stretching his legs out. He wanted to turn and look at John, but he did his best to stare straight ahead.

"Do you have one about space?" John asked a bit shyly. 

"Yeah, of course," Sherlock grabbed a DVD and switched it. He got back on the bed, flopping a bit too much, but thought it'd be worse if he now sat up awkwardly. So he stayed as he was. "I didn't know you were into space stuff." 

"Just a bit," John shrugged. Slowly he leaned back against the headboard. No sense in being completely uncomfortable.  

"Hmm, you are quite intriguing," Sherlock said. There was something in his voice, though -- something that made him start thinking about John in that way. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He stared at the screen, trying to relax, trying not to let anything happen to his body.

John pulled his knees up as he watched, resting his forearms on them so that his hands hung in front of him. 

Sherlock was staring at the telly, but his mind was racing. He considered making a joke so he could shove John like he did on Saturday. He wondered if he could challenge him to a wrestling match. What about if something happened, someone broke into the house, and John got scared and he and Sherlock would have to huddle together? Sherlock realised he was in big trouble. "I need some water, I think," he said and left the room. He hurried downstairs -- he didn't want to be gone too long -- but he felt like he could breathe a little more easily. He tried to relax. _Focus on the film_ , he told himself. He came back in, holding two bottles of water. "I brought one for you," he said, setting them both on the bedside table. "Sorry about that," he sat back on the bed.

"That's fine," John said, glancing over. Sherlock didn't hand John his water bottle. He'd set it on the table on his side of the bed. _Lean over him and get it yourself. That's what he wants. That's what you want._ "Can I use your bathroom?" John asked suddenly. 

"Of course," Sherlock said. "It's across the hall." Sherlock watched John walk out. He exhaled -- it felt like the first time he'd done it since he came back in. _Relax, relax, relax_ , he said in his head.

John shut the bathroom room and leaned against it, taking slow, deep breaths. It was not as easy as he thought it would be, hanging out with Sherlock with all of this in his head. Especially on his bed. He flushed to make it seem normal, he pointlessly washed his hands and then came back into the room. When he did, he took his water bottle before climbing up onto the bed again. 

"What's going on with us, John?" Sherlock said. He clicked off the DVD. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry to bring up anything awkward, but what's happening? Why are we both so nervous? Are you worried I'm going to . . . do something to you? Let's just talk about whatever's wrong. This is stupid and it's stressing me out." _God_ , Sherlock thought, _it was all out now._

John's breath hitched and he shook his head. "I'm nervous because . . .because I want you too. And that scares me." He was barely whispering as he admitted this, finally saying it out loud. There was no going back now. 


	6. Different

"I see," Sherlock said. But he needed a minute to really understand. "Are you sure? Perhaps you just thought about it because of what I said before. I'm sorry . . . please don't get freaked out again. Just be how you were, with the girls, you don't have to be confused, you don't have to even consider it just because of what happened." It never crossed Sherlock's mind that John might freak out in this way, by wondering if he too was gay. "Maybe it's just because of your dad going on at you all the time. Don't worry, it's probably not true. I'm sorry for everything I've done and said. I'm sorry I've upset you."

"I'm not confused like that," John sighed and looked at him properly. "I've liked you since the first day we started hanging out. I keep dreaming about you, I can't stop thinking about you, I don't want my stupid date to work out because I want to date you. I want to be with you." 

"I don't know what to say or do," Sherlock said, because he really didn't. "I feel like I want to kiss you but I don't know if I should." He looked down at the floor. "I don't know if you want me to and I don't even know how to do it if you did want me to."

"I want you to," John said quietly, getting onto his knees and crawling closer to Sherlock. 

"Jesus, John," Sherlock said, "Now I'm freaking out. I've thought about it, you know I have, but I never thought it would happen." He swallowed hard again. "Here, lie down next to me." They were in the same position as on Saturday. Sherlock faced John and looked straight at him. "John, I'm going to kiss you but before I do, I just have to say something. I am pretty sure that I'm going to get a hard on. I kind of am getting one already. I'm sorry. Should I still do it?" _God, please say yes_ , Sherlock thought. He really believed that this would be the one and only chance he'd ever have.

John flushed and nodded quickly. "I have one, too," he whispered. John had forgotten all about getting home on time. This was the only thing in his mind, the only thing that mattered. 

"I'm going to do what I imagined, please tell me if I'm doing it wrong," Sherlock said shyly. He put one hand on John's hip and slid his body closer. He closed his eyes and kissed John's mouth. It was soft and the kiss was also soft. Sherlock's lips were parted and even though he knew about French kissing, this was good so he stayed kissing John like this, except his hand slid around to John's lower back. Sherlock was so hard he ached. Could a person come from just one kiss? Sherlock thought he might.

Everything exploded in John's stomach when Sherlock touched his hip and when their lips met, he was sure he was going to pass out. He reached up and touched Sherlock's cheek--he tasted amazing. John scooted closer when his hand wound around to his back, almost pressing them together. 

"John," Sherlock said softly, moving his mouth to John's cheek. "I don't want to stop." He kissed John again, this time a little harder. He moved his tongue a bit, sliding it against John's. This felt so good. He pressed his body against John's. He could feel John's hardness against his own. This was better than anything he'd ever done to himself.

"I . . . have to go home," John mumbled, hating that he was even thinking about that. But he didn't pull away.

"Okay, okay, okay," Sherlock repeated softly, pressing his face against cheek. "Just wait a minute," he tried to collect himself. "I'm . . . it almost hurts, John." He inhaled and exhaled. He felt nervous again, knowing John would look at him and he didn't know what his face would look like. This is what he had wanted to do, he wanted to keep doing it, he wanted to do it every day. He wished he could say that and know that John felt the same. "Okay," Sherlock leaned back and rested his head on his pillow. "I know you have to go, I don't want you to be late, but . . . was it okay? Are we still . . . going to be friends?"

"We can finish," John whispered.

Sherlock looked at John. "I don't know what that means, I don't know what to do." He felt a horrible mix of desire, curiosity and utter, utter stupidity.

"It'll be messy . . . in our pants," John mumbled. What a stupid way to say it! "I just . . can't leave like this." He was very obviously tenting his jeans. 

Sherlock thought about what he had imagined, about grinding against John -- that must be what John meant. He definitely wanted to try that. "Shall I get on top of you or you on top of me?" He didn't care, he didn't care at all, he just wanted to do it.

John whimpered softly and took a deep breath to calm down a bit. "Um, I'll get on top," he mumbled, sitting up and straddling Sherlock's hips nervously. 

Sherlock watched John climb on top of him. Now that they'd kissed, his feelings were only stronger. He didn't care if this made him gay. He didn't care that it would be difficult because of John's dad. He just wanted this, he just wanted to be with John. John leaned down to kiss him and Sherlock lifted his head into the kiss, no longer caring if he was doing it right or not. His cock ached against the pressure of John's weight.

John's hips were already moving rhythmically against Sherlock's, making John moan softly. The friction was incredible, and heat was flooding into his stomach.

Sherlock lifted his lower body to meet John's. It was just like in his imagination. He lifted his hands to John's hips, letting them move with John's movements. God, it felt good -- like John was everything in the world. He closed his eyes and felt all of his energy move down his body. He knew what was happening, knew he couldn't take much more. "John," he whispered and all of a sudden he came. He made a little grunting sound, even though he was always quiet when he was on his own. He felt the warm wetness against him.

John pushed down hard, each breath accompanied with a small moan. He gripped Sherlock's shirt into his fists as the build up became too much. He gasped as he came, releasing a shuddering breath.

Sherlock felt John panting on top of him. He couldn't believe they had just done what they had done. He was glad they had, but he didn't know what to do or what to say now. 

John shifted off of Sherlock, sitting on the bed beside him and staring at the wall. "Sherlock," he said quietly. How could he leave after that? It felt wrong.

Sherlock didn't know whether or not to look at John. "John," he said softly. "Thank you."

John bit his lip and nodded. "I-that was good," he said lamely. _Good?_ he groaned inwardly.

"It was," Sherlock said. "I didn't know . . ." He didn't know what to say. "I know you have to go, John, but what are we going to do about this? Are we still going to be friends? Is this going to ruin everything?"

"I don't want it to," John said quietly. He shifted and slowly got off of the bed. He moved around to Sherlock's side and stood in front of him. "I . . . have to go on that date." He looked up at Sherlock sadly. "But I want to be with you -- it's selfish, I know." 

Sherlock smiled softly. "We'll figure something out. It'll be okay. But . . . don't do that with her. Just with me, okay?"

John couldn't help smiling, leaning forward and kissing him again. "Only you," he murmured.

Sherlock closed his eyes when John kissed him. He couldn't believe how much he liked it. "Listen," he said. "If my name's in your phone, change it to a girl's name. Then I don't have to paranoid about what I say. Not that I'm going to text anything rude . . . I'd just feel better. I think I will really worry about you even more now."

"He never sees my phone. I keep it close always," John said.

"When can we be together again? Not at school, I mean, when can we be by ourselves? Do we have to wait until next week?"

"I don't know," John said honestly. "I was planning on skipping tomorrow, I could come straight over. I was going to go in on Friday. And then . . .then I don't know."

Sherlock felt his stomach jump. "We'll have to see what happens with the date, I guess. But yes, please come over tomorrow. Can we maybe do that again?" Sherlock felt stupid asking but he also wanted to know, he didn't know if he'd make it through the night just wondering if they would. 

John nodded, smiling again. "I would like that. You don't mind that it's just . . .that?"

"John, I don't know what else . . . I think I'd like other things . . . if you'd show me." He felt incredibly stupid but his curiosity was greater than his concern about sounding stupid.

John nodded. "Maybe we can try something new tomorrow," he said quietly.

Sherlock smiled even though the answer also made his stomach flip a little. "Let me get you some biscuits. Don't forget your bag," Sherlock stood up and adjusted his trousers a bit. He led John downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed some biscuits and wrapped them in some kitchen roll. He handed them to John. "Is this what it was like after, when you did it with the girls? I feel nervous and happy and kind of sick at the same time. But in a good way." He smiled.

"No," John laughed softly. "But this is how it should be." John remembered feeling a bit deflated after those girls, like he'd done something he was expected to do and nothing more. The body reacts the same, of course, but the feelings involved this time were so much better. 

"God, I wish you didn't have to go. I wish you could stay here always," Sherlock said even though he knew it sounded stupid. "I don't know how I'm going to get through tonight. I might go to bed as soon as you leave." He blushed but he was just being honest. "Will you text me so I know everything's okay?" 

"I will," John promised. He shouldered his bag, stuffed the biscuits into his pocket and kissed Sherlock one more time before he finally left. It was going to be close but maybe he could pay extra to make the driver rush.

Sherlock watched John's taxi pull away. There was so much in his head at the moment. He went upstairs and lay on his bed. He had kissed someone. He had done other stuff, he came in front of someone else. And it was a guy. And it was his friend, John.

Those things were big enough. But there was more. Was John his boyfriend now? And John's dad -- John's dad literally beat him for thinking he liked boys. And John's dad set up John on a date with someone. A girl. How could Sherlock make sense of all of this? He wished he had someone to talk to, but knew he didn't. The only person he was close to would never want to hear about this. And his brother? He hated Mycroft for . . . being Mycroft. Sherlock would just have to leave all these things in his head and hope that he could make some sense of everything.

Lying on the bed made him think about what happened and then he remembered he should change his clothes. He nipped into the shower and redressed in clean clothes. But he still didn't know what to do with himself. He just felt so . . . different.

As the cab pulled up towards his house he saw his dad pulling up as well. John made the cabbie stop, paid quickly and then ran through the yard to the back of the house. He climbed along the tree by his window, slipped into his room and had just shut the window when he heard his dad shut the door. John breathed out heavily and pulled out his phone.

_I had to sneak into my own house. -JW_

"John! Get down here!"

John changed his clothes quickly before checking the mirror, just to be sure. Only then did he head downstairs.

"You're going to take her to dinner on Saturday, I'll give you money for that. You bring her back here at the end of the night, understand?"

John nodded. When his dad busied himself with his papers, John went back upstairs.

_I'm glad you're safe. SH_

_I miss you. SH_

Sherlock sent the second one quickly. He did feel like a lovesick puppy who would follow John everywhere. He'd follow him to chemistry class, he'd go to rugby games, he'd follow him to college, just waiting for John to give him some attention. He rolled over on his bed. Was this going to be okay?

He closed his eyes and thought about what had happened on the bed. He could feel himself get hard again, but this time he didn't touch himself. He just lay there, feeling that feeling, knowing it was all because of John. He tried to imagine exactly what John meant when he said "Something new." Sherlock knew what some of those things might be, but all of them involved being without clothes. Sherlock couldn't remember the last time he was naked in front of someone else and even then it was a doctor at the hospital. If they were naked, John would see his erection. For some reason, this made Sherlock very anxious. It was easier to imagine John touching it than to imagine him seeing it, which seemed stupid but felt true. He thought about John touching it, thought of John doing what Sherlock did to himself. That'd be good. He decided to stop thinking there and got up to try to work on his blog.

_I miss you too. I can't stop thinking about it. -JW_

John didn't know if that was a weird thing to say but there was nothing for it now. He lay on his bed and thought about what they'd done and what they might do tomorrow. He closed his eyes and pictured it. Would they use their hands? Or their mouths? Would they do more? John flushed darker and shifted in place, biting his lip as he got hard yet again. 

John's text made Sherlock feel better. It must be okay to be thinking about it, to be missing him. He had told John everything about his utter lack of experience and, until John, interest and now he felt a little vulnerable. John did have experience, he must have a better idea what to expect and Sherlock knew this put him at a disadvantage. But he trusted John. He hoped John trusted him as well. 

Sherlock stared again at the blank document open on his screen. He hadn't written a single word. He usually wrote about his experiments: he guessed this was a type of experiment, but probably not one he could write about on the Internet. He stared at the screen, his eyes going a little funny, which relaxed him. He heard movement downstairs then a knock on his door. His father opened it a crack.

"Have you got plans for the weekend?" he asked.

"No," said Sherlock.

"We have. Your mother and I are going away, to the cottage. You don't want to join us, do you?"  
  
"No," said Sherlock.

"Fair enough. You'll be all right on your own? Need any money?"  
  
"No," said Sherlock.

"We'll leave a few bob, just in case. We're heading out Friday morning. You all right to get yourself to college and everything?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Good." His father pulled his door shut again.

Sherlock got up and moved to the bed. He opened his phone and read through all the messages he and John had sent. He wondered if he'd ever see John's house, meet John's father or sister. He wondered if he'd always be a secret and wasn't sure how it made him feel.

John tried to busy himself with the internet and books, but it wasn't working. He couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock, about tomorrow.

_Distract me. Make the time pass faster. -JW_

Sherlock picked up his phone.

_I wonder what your room looks like. I'm in mine. I'm where it happened. SH_

John bit his lip.

_It's boring. And that's not helping. -JW_

_I liked what we did. Is it okay if I think about it when I'm on my own? Do you know what I mean? SH_

_Yes. I started to as well. I think that's okay because we're together now. -JW_

Sherlock smiled. Now he wouldn't be the only one who had done it. He wondered how he'd have felt if John had said that before. It didn't matter, he liked it now. He wondered what John meant by 'together.' The idea didn't bother him except he wondered if there were now rules he was supposed to follow. He wouldn't even mind following them, he just didn't know what they were. But this didn't seem like something to discuss via text. Maybe he should just ask John tomorrow. 

_What are we going to do tomorrow? I want to think about that as well. SH_

Sherlock was pretty sure that he'd never be able to just ask John that if he were sitting in this room with him.

John smiled and texted back quickly.

_Hands? Mouths? I'm not exactly sure. What would you like to do? -JW_

He found it was much easier texting about it than talking about it.

Sherlock looked at the text. It wasn't like he hadn't known about those options. But it was still all quite new. He was pretty sure he could manage hands -- surely he'd just do to John the same kind of things he did to himself. That seemed doable. But mouth? He wasn't sure what exactly he was supposed to do. 

_I don't know how to do the second one. Have you ever done it? I'd try if you told me what to do. SH_

He hit send. Was that a stupid thing to write? He was trying to be honest. He'd always been better at writing than at talking, but then again he'd never written or talked about this kind of stuff before.

_I've had it done to me before but that's all. We'll see how it goes. -JW_

Hmmm, Sherlock didn't like the sound of that even though he knew it shouldn't surprise him. He felt stupid again. He knew it wasn't a competition but it just felt weird that John had done all these things Sherlock hadn't.

_Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. SH_

_We will figure it out. Maybe we can watch videos. -JW_

_I'm going to now. Don't you. Because of him. I'll get back to you. SH_

Sherlock set his laptop on his bed. Then he moved it aside and stood up and locked the door. He went back to his bed. He muted the volume and typed 'how to give a blowjob'. He hit search. First he clicked on an article that explained things in great detail. Very informative. Then he clicked on a video and watched it. It seemed like the men hated each other. He watched a few more until he found one which seemed nicer. He could feel his cock start to get hard. He imagined it was him doing it to John. Then he imagined John doing it to him. He really felt like masturbating now. But instead he deleted his browser history and picked up his phone.

_I can do it. I'll do it to you tomorrow. SH_

_Okay. Then I'll do it to you too. -JW_

_If you want to. What about the other stuff? Do you think we'll do that? SH_

_I'd like to one day. -JW_

_I'm going to watch some of that now. I'll be back. SH_

Sherlock opened his computer again. He typed in 'gay sex'. He clicked a few videos without watching much because the men were gross: American and tan and muscled and mean. Why was everyone so mean to each other when they were having sex? Sherlock didn't want to be mean to John. He didn't want John to be mean to him. Finally he found one where it seemed like the men were together -- like John said he and Sherlock were. They started out with kissing, like John and Sherlock had. Then there was some oral sex. And then Sherlock watched one of the men have sex with the other one. Sherlock's cock was really hard now. He watched for about ten minutes. Then he deleted his browser history and closed his laptop so the room was completely dark. He lay back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. He remembered earlier looking up and seeing John's face, seeing John come as he rubbed against him.

Sherlock opened his trousers and slid his hand around his erection. He started stroking himself. He thought about having sex with John. He tried to imagine how it'd feel different than his hand, but he couldn't really even though he knew that it must do. Then he imagined John having sex with him. He wondered if it would hurt. The man's face in the video, it looked like it might be hurting him at first but definitely not after a while. He wondered how they'd be on the bed: would they be lying down? Would he be too scared to try it? Would John really do it? Sherlock's hips were lifting off the bed, just like they had done with John. He felt an ache -- not just the usual one when he was wanking, but like an ache for John. His eyes were closed and all he could see was John and their bodies tangled and their mouths against each other and then he came into his hand. This time he was quiet, like usual. He caught his breath and cleaned himself up. He picked up his phone. 

_It might hurt a little. I would only try it with you. SH_

_I figured. I would only try it with you. I'm really hard, Sherlock. -JW_

John was aching to touch himself.

_You should do it then. I just did. SH_

Before hitting send, Sherlock read the message over and over -- should he tell? He promised John and himself that he would never tell again. But things were different now, right? They were texting about having sex with each other, surely that meant that wanking was okay to mention. He hit send and then quickly sent another.

_Think about us doing it and then tell me if I did it to you or you did it to me. SH_

_Okay. Hold on. -JW_

John got up and locked his door as silently as he could before laying down again. He closed his eyes and stuck his hand into his pants. He imagined kissing Sherlock at first and then his mind took over and there was a slew of images flying across his mind. It started with John on top, lifting Sherlock onto his table in the shed like he'd imagined that first day, with Sherlock sitting up and panting in his ear. Now John was panting, bucking into his hand. Then the scene changed and Sherlock was pushing into him. He tried to imagine the feeling but it was hard. He definitely saw it. He came into his hand, just barely holding back a moan. When he got his senses back he reached for his phone.

_I saw both. It started with me on top on your shed table. Then it was you on top in your bed. -JW_

Sherlock was surprised by John's imagination. In the shed? He wondered why John had thought about the shed. Thinking about John thinking of Sherlock made him want to get into the bed and touch himself under the covers. Not just wank, though, he kind of felt like taking all his clothes off and just rubbing his whole body, imagining it was touching John's body. Was that too weird?

_I thought about both too. I wish you were here. SH_

_I wish I was too. Very soon, though. -JW_

Suddenly John realised that Sherlock was going go see him completely naked and he took his clothes off to look at himself. Should he do any kind of grooming? He flushed at the thought, not even knowing where to start. He'd never thought about this before. Had the girls minded? They never said. He put pajamas on and hoped it would be all right.

_Are you going to bed now? I might stay up and read. Text me if you get bored. SH_

Sherlock set his alarm for the morning then set his phone down. He opened his laptop. He searched again for gay sex, but this time he just read the articles. He didn't look at any videos. He was trying to learn more. He was trying to prepare for what might happen whenever it might happen. It would be like having a plan. It at least might help make him feel less stupid about it all.

_I'm not really tired. But I will try to sleep soon so I can get to tomorrow faster. -JW_

John set his alarm and then pulled his computer close. He checked to make sure the door was locked before he started searching for videos. He muted the computer and put headphones in just in case. He started watching some gay porn but a lot of it seemed violent and a bit shocking. He continued looking. He turned the volume up only two notches and slipped the headphone into his ear. The sounds! He closed his eyes and imagined Sherlock making those noises -- making them because of John. He shuddered and shifted in his bed. He didn't want to wank again but it was very hard not to want to.

_We don't have to be so rough, do we? -JW_

Sherlock picked up his phone. It made him nervous to think of John looking at those things -- what if his dad found out? Sherlock wished he had some power, wished he could help keep John safe.

_No. Here's the one I watched. It's nicer. Let's not be mean. SH_

He found the nicer one and sent a link to John.

_Delete this and your browser history. Be careful. Please. SH_

_I'm using the 'incognito' window. Muted and headphones. They all look a bit intense. -JW_

John didn't know what that meant but he hoped Sherlock would understand. He watched the one that Sherlock had sent him and it was better -- sweet, even. 

_That one was a lot better. -JW_

_We could try it. I wish you could stay the night sometime. It'd be easier. SH_

Why was everything so unfair? If John's dad was just normal, John could spend the night. He knew normal lads did that, he'd heard them talking about it. They went to parties and 'crashed' at each other's houses. Why did John's dad have to be the only one who wouldn't allow something like that? Sherlock hated him so much.

_I know. But we should do our own thing, okay? I don't want to copy someone else. -JW_

John tried to picture Sherlock naked and the thought made him flush and grin stupidly. When he remembered he'd be naked as well he sobered up and tried to picture that. It was odd because he'd had sex before, but it had never occurred to him. Was it because Sherlock was a boy as well? No. It was because John actually cared about what Sherlock thought about him. He actually cared if Sherlock liked what he saw, if he would find it attractive. John tried to remind himself that Sherlock must already like it if he was masturbating to John, but clothed and unclothed were very different.  

_Obviously. I don't have any chest hair really so we can't totally copy them. :) SH_

Sherlock couldn't believe that he just sent a text with a smiley face. But he wanted to make sure that John felt okay. He was worried enough, he didn't want to think about John freaking out again.   
  
_We'll be okay because we'll be together. SH  
_

_Should I do anything for you? Like before I come over? -JW_

John hid his face in the pillow as soon as he sent it, regretting it immediately. He realised if they went all the way Sherlock might see his . . .well, _he'd_ never even seen that. Has he supposed to do something to it? He wished there was someone he could ask. 

Sherlock stared at John's message. He didn't have the slightest idea what it meant. Was this a rule about being 'together' that Sherlock didn't know about?

_I don't know what you mean. Am I supposed to be doing something for you? Please advise. SH_

Sherlock sat up in the bed, worried now. Was he supposed to buy John a present? This was stressing him out.

_Everyone in the video is groomed and stuff. I've never done that. -JW_

John groaned quietly and wished the ground would open up and just swallow him whole. 

_Don't be daft. I don't like the ones in the video. I like you. SH_

Sherlock hadn't even thought of that. And he decided he wasn't going to. He had enough on his mind.

_I'm sorry. Maybe the videos were a bad idea. I feel like I have to live up to something. -JW_

John's nerves were starting to get a bit out of control and he hated that he was letting them show, pushing them at Sherlock. 

_Jesus, John. They're porn stars. We don't need to compare our first time to them. Let's just be us, yeah? SH_

Maybe John thought the videos were a bad idea, but Sherlock appreciated having a visual image of what might be going to happen.

_It will be tomorrow soon. And we'll see each other. That's a nice thought. xx SH_

_I know. I'm sorry. -JW_

John deleted the history and turned off the computer, lying down to go to bed. 

_Don't be sorry, John. I like everything about you. SH_

Sherlock undressed and put on his pajamas. He slipped under covers. Today had been a strange day. Tomorrow might likely be strange as well. He was glad for everything that had happened. He really was.

_I do too. About you I mean. See you soon. -JW_

John kept his phone close as he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. It took a long time but eventually he drifted off. 

Sherlock reached over and changed the time on his alarm. He fell asleep on the place where he and John had kissed.


	7. More

In the morning, Sherlock rose early and nipped out to the shop. He came back to the house and tried to tidy up. He cleaned away his parents' breakfast dishes. He changed the sheets on his bed and opened his window to let in some fresh air. He waited for John's text.

When John's alarm went off he went straight into the shower, spending an extra long time cleaning his body. When he finally got out and got dressed his dad was pounding on the door. "Hurry up, I'm driving you to school."

"What?" John asked, trying to hide his panic. "Why?"

"I'm going into work early. Let's go." He said and stormed off downstairs. John grabbed his phone as he made his way downstairs. 

_He's driving me to school. I'll be over as soon as I can. -JW_

When they got in the car, his dad started ranting on about how he was working late again today to impress his boss before shifting the conversation to the date again. John was hardly listening as he rambled on and on. When they finally got there John thanked him and had no choice but to walk into the school, slipping right into the bathroom to wait for the halls to clear. 

Sherlock felt sick when he read John's message.

_Just be safe. If you can't come, it's okay, I promise. I want to see you but I want you to be safe. SH_

_I mean it. SH xx_

He hoped it was okay to put the kisses in. He meant them. He made a cup of tea and sat again at the table.

_He's already gone. I'm leaving now. -JW_

John pressed his ear to the door and waited for silence. 

_I'll see you soon. SH_

Sherlock stood up and put the kettle on again. He went upstairs and brushed his teeth even though he had already brushed his teeth four times this morning. He came back down and sat and waited again.

When there was nothing coming from the halls, John crept out of the bathroom and left the building. He grabbed a taxi a block away from the school and pulled out his phone. 

_I'm on my way. -JW_

Sherlock felt so glad everything was okay. He stood up and walked around the kitchen. Then he sat down again and then he stood up and walked again. _Hurry_ , he willed John. This was silly but he just felt so eager.

When the cab pulled up John almost ran off without paying. When that was finally sorted he hurried to the door, waited to catch his breath and then knocked quickly. 

Sherlock opened the door. He smiled widely. John stepped in and Sherlock pulled his arm and kissed him quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm so nervous and I thought it'd be good just to do it," Sherlock tried to smile.

"That's okay," John smiled. "My dad is working late again so I have until five again."

"Let's go up, but John, we'll just go up to hang out. Don't get stressed and I won't get stressed, yeah?" He smiled. He grabbed John's hand and they walked upstairs. Sherlock opened the door to his room and sat on the bed. "Should I put a film on?"

"Okay," John nodded. He dropped his backpack by the door and hung his jacket over the chair in Sherlock's room. He climbed up onto the bed, into his regular spot, and waited for Sherlock to get settled. 

Sherlock put a space DVD in and sat down by John. "I should have brought up water," he said. "I guess we can get it later. I can make us lunch." He slid down a little on the bed, trying to get comfortable, trying not to think about what might happen next.

When Sherlock was settled in John leaned over and settled down against him, just like the first time. 

Sherlock shifted his arm to kind of wrap it around John. "This is good," Sherlock said. 

John nodded. "You're very comfortable," he smiled. 

"You make me comfortable," Sherlock said, lifting his hand to muss John's hair.

John laughed softly. It was nice not to have to worry about the time. 

"John," Sherlock said. When they were looking at each other, he said, "I mean it. You're kind of the first person ever I feel comfortable with. I feel comfortable being myself with you. Even though that self is sometimes weird and stupid and inappropriate, I still feel okay being me. With you. Thanks for that." 

"You are, too. I mean -- the things I've told you," John took a deep breath. "You make me feel safe and not afraid to be who I am."

"Who are you, John Watson?" Sherlock said, softly.

The way they were sitting, Sherlock's hand was draped over his shoulder and close to his face. He fixed his eyes on that, touching his fingers gently, one by one. "I'm . . . a gay guy who really likes this scientist and who likes watching space movies and eating biscuits." He smiled softly and stopped playing with Sherlock's hand.  

"You're lovely, you are," Sherlock said quietly. "I want to kiss you." He leaned over and kissed John's mouth softly. He was so much more confident today, it just felt natural. He shifted slightly to try to turn to face John. 

John hummed softly as they kissed, shifting a bit to make Sherlock's move a bit easier. He rested his hand on Sherlock's waist, lightly at first until he stopped moving, when John let it settle there. 

"I thought about kissing a lot last night," Sherlock said softly. "I didn't do it again, though. I just thought about it. It made me feel nice as I was going to sleep. I wished you were there next to me."

As Sherlock was talking John pecked a few kisses on his chin and cheeks. "I like being close to you, even if we're just lying here." John imagined the day they could always share a bed, falling asleep together without having to worry. 

Sherlock slid his arms around John's body. He pressed closer into John and tangled their legs together. Their hips were almost touching, but not quite. "Did you watch any other videos last night?" he kind of whispered into John's ear.

John nodded, sliding his hands up around Sherlock's waist. "I watched a bunch of them, but I didn't do anything. Not again," he admitted. He tugged lightly, wanting to feel Sherlock's weight on his body. 

Sherlock moved onto John. He pulled his hands from behind John and slid them around John's head instead. "Did you come up with things you wanted to try? Don't put pressure on me to be like those guys. I'm not tan enough." He smiled and kissed John's mouth quickly. 

John chuckled softly as he kissed Sherlock back. "We're going to do our own thing," he murmured against Sherlock's lips. 

Sherlock was relaxed kissing John, but then he felt a familiar tension in his stomach and then lower. "I think I'm getting hard. Is that okay?"

John nodded. He pecked a kiss on his cheek again, and then angling Sherlock's head, he continued along his jaw line and neck. He flicked his tongue out and smiled against his skin. He tasted good. 

"You are going to get addicted to the nicotine coming out of my skin," Sherlock said. John's kisses tickled but in a good way. He slid one of his hands down John's chest to rest on his waistband.

"Can't do worse than four packs an hour," John teased, sucking lightly on the nape of his neck.

"That feels good, John," Sherlock said. It was so strange -- he wouldn't have imagined something like tickling his jaw or sucking his neck could feel so good, but everything John did felt good. Sherlock was definitely hard now and he very tentatively pressed his hips into John's.

John moaned softly against his skin, coming back up to kiss his mouth. His hands slipped into Sherlock's shirt, touching his bare sides.

"Your hands are cold," Sherlock said, shivering a little, but he wondered if it was just the newness -- a part of his body that had never been touched by someone else in this way. "But it feels nice. Should I take off my shirt?" He hoped he wasn't making any assumptions.

"I can," John said quietly, gripping his shirt and pulling it up over Sherlock's head. He ran his hands along Sherlock's exposed skin. He was very thin but it suited him. "You're gorgeous," he breathed shyly.

Sherlock could feel the skin on his face go red. He couldn't even make any words to reply. "Take yours off, too," he said instead. And then he added, "Let's get under the covers." He kicked off his shoes and lifted up the corner of the duvet.

John sat up so they could move, pulling his shirt off before scooting under the blanket.

"That's better," Sherlock said, moving back onto John, their bare chests now pressed together. Sherlock felt a little weak and he was enormously conscious of his erection now that he was half naked. He wasn't totally sure if John was hard. He thought he might be, but although it sounded like a bad joke, he thought it also might be John's phone in his pocket. "Should we keep going?" he asked. 

John nodded. "If you'd like to," he murmured, not mentioning that if they stopped now he'd have to wank to relieve himself. Sherlock's weight on his body felt very good and his skin was hot where it touched Sherlock's.

"Can I . . . touch you?"

John nodded, wondering if he should have asked permission before he ran his hands all over Sherlock. "It's okay," he said quietly. "Whatever you want to do." He nodded again.

Sherlock moved his hand and rested it on John's jeans. He could feel his erection, and he felt like a shot of electricity went straight to his own cock. He kind of curled his fingers around John, but then said, "You should probably take off your jeans." He hoped that being under the covers might make their nakedness easier.

"Okay," John said quietly, unbuttoning them and pulling the zip down. He tugged them down, lifting his hips to make it easier and inadvertently bucked right into Sherlock. The friction through the thin material of his pants felt incredible.

Sherlock slid his hand into John's pants. His cock was hard but the skin was so soft and warm. He looked at John's face to make sure he wasn't wearing a look of horror. He wasn't. "I'm going to do what I usually do. Let me know if you want me to do something else." Of course, the angle was different but he tried to get a steady stroke, not too firm but firm enough. Sherlock's own cock ached and his hips moved a little. He almost felt like he could feel his hand's movement on himself.

John was breathing a bit hard, lifting his head to watch Sherlock's hand moving along his cock. "Feels good," he said a bit thickly.

"It feels good to me too," Sherlock said, "I like doing it. You're sexy." He couldn't really believe he'd ever say these words, but they were true.

John flushed and gazed up at him, tugging at his trousers. "I could do you at the same time," he murmured.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "Let's try." He pulled off his trousers under the covers and dropped them on the floor. "Let's turn on our sides, it might be easier." He started touching John again and he kissed him as well.

As they kissed John tugged his pants out of the way and, with a soft moan, he gripped Sherlock's cock and stroked slowly. Sherlock filled his hand and, caught in the moment he desperately wanted to see it. But he waited. Sherlock had wanted to get under the covers for a reason and John would respect that.

John's touch made Sherlock take a deep inhale. It was good, John touching him. It was different than touching himself, it was better. It felt so intimate, like something he would only ever share with one person and he had chosen John. "I like the noises you make," Sherlock whispered. "They seem so . . . genuine. They make me feel . . . more excited." His body was full of urges, some of which he wasn't even sure how to respond to. He kissed John again, harder this time, sliding his tongue into his mouth. It was good, but Sherlock tried to not get too distracted, keeping his hand moving on John. "Should I do anything else? Tell me what you like," his voice was so quiet he wasn't even sure John would hear him.

John hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts before answering. "Kiss my neck," he whispered, knowing it was a sensitive spot for him. He was eager to find Sherlock's, to find what place made him crazy. 

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John's neck. He sucked on the skin, like John had done to him. He needed to think more, to notice what John did and then do that to John. He licked from John's ear all the way down to his collarbone. He tasted John's skin. He'd never thought of a person having a taste, but John's tasted good. He himself made a little moan.

"Oh God," John shuddered softly, heat flooding his whole body. His hand swiped the tip of Sherlock's cock, moving easier and a bit faster now.

"John," Sherlock moaned. "It feels good and I feel like I'm going to come from your touching me, but I feel . . . I've never . . . but I'm going to if you keep doing it." He tried to focus on touching John, but John was just making him feel so good.

"Just relax," John said quietly. "What are you worried about?" His hips were bucking lightly into Sherlock's hand, heat pooling into his stomach.

"I don't know, it just feels like it's too much, just stop for a second. I want you to do it first. I don't know why, just help me make you do it." God, Sherlock felt so stupid but he was feeling quite anxious and he didn't want something to go horribly wrong. He didn't think a panic attack would be very sexy and if this went wrong, he worried John would never want to do it again. He tried to control his breath and focused on John again. He sped up his hand and did a little twist. He kept moving as he pressed his mouth against John's neck again, feeling better once his head was nestled into John.

"We can together," John moaned, stroking Sherlock faster. "Together."

Sherlock pulled his hips away. "John, please, you first. It doesn't have to be like in the films. Please, just listen to me. I want you to, it's not that I don't want to, I do. Just you first, okay?" He tried to smile. He didn't want to make this awkward, but if they were going to do this, he didn't want it to go wrong. "Please, you just relax now, and . . . " he moved his hand on John and kissed his neck.

John huffed out a breath and nodded, his hand stilling on Sherlock as heat rushed through him. With a soft moan he came into Sherlock's hand, panting softly as his orgasm waved through him.

Sherlock liked that he could make John feel like that. "Oh my god, John, that was so sexy," Sherlock said, his breathing as fast as John's. "Do me now. I'm ready." He didn't care about the mess on his hand. He grabbed John's hand and moved it to his cock. "Please. Hurry."

John stroked him quickly, swiping his thumb over the tip and kissing along his cheek and jaw.

Sherlock relaxed into John's movement. God, it felt good. He lifted one hand to John's arm and squeezed it. His eyes were closed and soon he felt a familiar heat rising. He called out John's name and came. He struggled a little to catch his breath. "John, god, I . . ." Sherlock pressed his face into John's shoulder.

John kissed his temple and slid his hand to his side instead.

Sherlock was still panting against John. "I feel like my heart is beating too fast." Sherlock felt so stupid, why was he reacting like this? "John, I want us to do that a million more times. It felt so good, but I can't catch my breath. I just . . . never thought I'd do this with someone and now I have and I'm embarrassed that I can't catch my breath." He kept his head tucked against John.

"It's okay," John murmured as he pet Sherlock's hair. He kissed his temple again. "You're okay."

Sherlock put his arm around John and squeezed. "I just . . . like being with you so much and this is more . . . a bigger deal than I thought it'd be, I guess. I'm sorry for being stupid."

"You're not being stupid at all," John said quietly. "The first time can be like this. I promise it's okay," he said.

Sherlock felt a little twinge; being reminded of John's experience -- even though he knew he only mentioned it out of kindness -- added to his insecurity. He closed his eyes against John's skin and thought about the times he'd spent with John since they first met. Images flashed in his mind like snapshots: in the library, in the lab, at the cafe, on the rugby field, in Sherlock's room . . . All those times Sherlock felt comfortable, this was bigger maybe but no different really. Just something new, something he'd never done and he'd chosen to do it with John. It would always tie them together, no matter what happened.

Sherlock swallowed and pulled back from John a bit. "I'm okay now, sorry," he said, smiling weakly. He reached over and grabbed his shirt, handing it to John to clean up himself. "I wish I had brought up that water now."

"Don't worry," John smiled. He didn't know how much Sherlock had been planning on doing today, but John had a feeling that this might be enough for now. Sherlock was much more nervous than he let on and John didn't want to pressure him into anything. "You know you have nothing to be sorry about, yeah?"

"Okay," Sherlock said, smiling at John. "Listen, I want us to do more but I think I might need to recuperate a little. Can we see what happens in a little bit? Are you going to be angry if it turns out we don't do . . . other stuff today?" He was pretty sure John wasn't going to be angry at him -- John didn't seem like that type. What Sherlock worried about was that John would be disappointed. Add that to Sherlock's weird reaction and all the other stuff . . . Sherlock worried John would decide being with him was just too complicated.

John leaned forward and pecked his lips. "Let's just see what happens, okay? I will never be mad at you for something like that," he assured Sherlock.

"Good, I'm glad, I didn't think you would but I just wanted to be sure," Sherlock said, snuggling down with John again. "I think I should go make us something to eat, but before I do I want to say something." He swallowed and said, "I really like you, John. I like you as my friend and obviously I like you as more than my friend. I'm glad we've done what we've done and I want to keep doing it because I like that I can do it with you." Sherlock had never spoken so sentimentally in his life, but he really meant it.

"I really like you a lot, too." John said, petting Sherlock's hair again. "I never thought . . .well, realising that I'm gay was just . . .I'm glad it's with you. That I can be with you like this."

"I'm glad, too," Sherlock said. "Okay, put your clothes back on and let's go have lunch." Sherlock stood up and took a clean shirt out of his drawer. They went downstairs. "Sandwiches?" He bent over and looked into the fridge. "We've got cheese, some turkey, some kind of brown meat --roast beef maybe -- lettuce, tomatoes. I could make egg salad. What sounds good?" 

"Not egg salad," John shook his head. "A regular sandwich will be fine -- by regular I mean turkey, sorry."

Sherlock made two sandwiches with turkey and brought them over on a tray with mayo, mustard and ketchup. He got two bottles of water. He sat down across from John and said, "We should probably talk about this date of yours."

"I'm not going to do anything with her, I promise," John said. 

"I didn't mean that," Sherlock said, smiling, "though I'm glad to hear it." He touched John's hand quickly across the table. "I mean, we need a plan so that it works out for the best. We need to figure out how to not be mean to her but make sure it helps with your dad."

"I had considered asking for her help -- saying she was with me should anyone ask, even though I would be with you. But I have to meet her first. I don't know if she would do that."

"Do you think it's too risky? Hanging out with her for one night might not be that bad. I don't know," Sherlock said, "I just don't want him to do anything to you." Sherlock fiddled with his sandwich, taking everything off and nibbling on a piece of turkey.

"We won't know until I meet her and see. If she would be willing to help us out -- just until I went to uni, if would be great," John hated that they had to plot to see each other, but he was happy that Sherlock understood and was willing to work with him. 

"If you think it'll be okay, I trust you. But please promise if it doesn't seem like it's going to work, you'll just go see a film, have a dinner and be nice to her. And text me as soon as it's over. Promise?" Sherlock said.

"I promise I will be a good boy," John grinned. "Please don't worry."

"Be serious. I do worry. Look, if it weren't for me, maybe you'd be excited about the date and like her and then your dad would leave you alone. I hate this part of it, John, I hate thinking because of me, he's going to hurt you."

"Sherlock, I'm gay. I would have been gay with or without knowing you. That fact that my dad is a horrible person is not your fault," John assured him.  

"You say that now, but you didn't say that a week ago, did you? You didn't say that before you met me, did you?" Sherlock smiled a little. "John, you're not going to be able to out-clever me. I know I'm not to blame for your being gay or for your dad being horrible, but your dad gets violent about gay stuff and we just did some pretty gay stuff upstairs. I will worry about you because it's a worrying situation and I . . . care about you."

John smiled and gripped his hand properly. "He's not going to find out. How could he? At best he could suspect something and that's never too bad. It's not for too much longer anyways," he said. 

"Okay," Sherlock said. It seemed depressing thinking that John wouldn't be safe until he went far away. "When we're older, we could get a flat together. We could be with each other all the time. I'll cook for you. I'll do experiments and you can study and we can sleep in the same bed. That'd be good, don't you think?" He could hear his voice and knew that he sounded silly, but he just wished so hard that all the bad stuff didn't have to exist.

John grinned and nodded. "That would be great, Sherlock. And it wouldn't even matter that we don't like the same movies," he teased. 

"Perhaps your tastes will improve once you live with me for a while," Sherlock laughed. He got up and took the plates to the sink. "We've got two hours before you have to go. What do you want to do?"

John shrugged. "Let's go lay down. We can put a movie on and just hang out," he said. 

They went upstairs. Sherlock grabbed a DVD and his laptop, and they both laid down in their usual positions on the bed. Sherlock set his computer on his lap. "Before we watch the DVD, let's watch this," he typed something in and the video from the link he sent John last night began to play.

"Sherlock --" John flushed, feeling a bit embarrassed now that he wasn't watching it alone. It was odd, given what they had done earlier, but he buried his head into Sherlock's shoulder and only peeked out. 

"Let's just watch for a bit. I feel a bit weird about it as well. But we're going to do it, right, at some point? Let's just watch a bit." He didn't really know why he'd put it on. But he did now and maybe it'd be good to watch it. Maybe they could say what things they'd like to try or what they didn't want to do.

John turned his head and properly watched the video, biting his lip as he went on. 

They sat quietly for a minute. The men were making out like Sherlock and John had done, except they were a lot noisier. "Do you think they're good looking?" Sherlock said quietly. "Do you think they're sexy? You can be honest."

"Um . . .that's one's all right," John said, pointing to the dark-haired one. "You?"

"Yes, he's got a handsome face, but I don't think I'd want to have sex with him. However, watching the video is kind of making me feel . . . I think I might be getting hard." In the video, the dark-haired one was sucking the other one's cock. "I think I'd like to do that to you," he said. "Don't push my head like that, though. But you could put your hand in my hair, maybe?"

"I don't want to have sex with him either," John clarified. "Are you sure you want to so soon?" he asked. The moans coming from the video were distracting and making him hard. 

"I don't mean we have to do it this second, I just mean I want us to do that." The men in the video were now having sex. "Do you think we could do that while lying down? It seems to make more sense to me."

"It seems like a lot of them do it like that, but then I saw . . ." he trailed off as he took Sherlock's computer and found a video he'd watched the night before. ". . . this. I don't think the legs have to be up like that but I think I'd like to be able to see you," he said. 

"Yes, that seems more logical to me," he said. The men kissed a lot while they were having sex and that seemed good to Sherlock. "John, are you hard?"

"Yeah," John admitted. He watched as the man on top teased the other one, rubbing the tip of his cock over the hole over and over before finally putting it in. "I can't help it . . . it's the sounds, mostly." 

"Can I see? I mean, without your clothes?" Sherlock said, shyly.

John flushed lightly but nodded, sliding off of the bed to stand next to it. He took off his shirt and trousers, hesitating with his pants. "Don't . . . um--” he cut off, feeling silly. Sherlock wasn't going to laugh at him. He slid them off and stood up, nervously looking at Sherlock. 

"I'm not going to examine you," Sherlock laughed, "get back on the bed." John lay down again and Sherlock set his hand on John's chest. He slid it down to John's belly. He looked up at John's face. Then he looked down at John's erection. It looked a bit different than his but also similar. _What did you think it was going to look like?_ he asked himself. He didn't really have an answer. He curled his fingers around John's cock and started to stroke it slowly.

John took a deep breath when Sherlock touched his chest, his stomach twitching under his hand. John released his breath in a loud huff, the moans from the movie almost deafening now. 

"Do you want me to put my mouth on it?" Sherlock said, leaning over to kiss John's neck.

"Ah-I --" John took a deep breath. "Whatever you want," he whispered. 

"How about if I just put my mouth by it? Just to try it. I'll do more next time, okay?" Sherlock moved down so his face was close to John's cock. He watched his hand stroking it. Then he leaned closer and licked it with his tongue. He slid his hand to the base and kind of kissed it a few time. "Am I doing it okay?" he said quietly.

"Jesus, Sherlock," John moaned, gripping the bed in his effort to stay still. 

Sherlock felt much more relaxed now. "I'm going to do it for one more minute only," he said, licking it up and down. Then he moved his mouth over the tip and put it into his mouth. It had a taste, probably because of what happened earlier. But it didn't taste bad. He kissed it again and then said, "Time's up." He sat up and looked at John.

"Please," John whispered, meeting Sherlock's gaze. He didn't want to force him but that felt so good it almost hurt. "Sherlock, please." 

"Nope," Sherlock said smiling cheekily at him. "Now you have something to look forward to." Sherlock kind of liked teasing John like this. He lay back down next to John and just put his hand on his cock but didn't stroke it. "Did it feel as good as when it happened to you before?" Sherlock wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer but it was too late, he'd already asked it.

"I'm not answering that," John said, moving to sit up. "And I don't think you should be the only one teasing." He waved his hand to motion for Sherlock to take his clothes off. 

"Okay, but let's get under the covers. You can still look at it but I don't want to look at you looking at it," Sherlock said. "Sorry but I just feel nervous. No one's ever . . . seen it when it's hard." He smiled weakly.

John shook his head. "Please? I showed you," he said. 

"Fine," Sherlock said. _Well, he'd see it eventually_ , he thought. "Don't inspect me though and just don't make a face that will make me feel bad." Sherlock slipped off his clothes and lay down.

John gazed at his body, trying to take it all in but trying to be quick so Sherlock didn't feel bad. "You're gorgeous," he mumbled, placing his hand on Sherlock's chest and sliding it down like Sherlock had done. He grabbed Sherlock's cock lightly and stroked. 

"I am not," Sherlock said. "That feels good though," he said as he let his hand move down and rest on John's back.

John leaned forward and kissed his stomach, moving lower and lower, curving to his inner thigh. 

"It tickles," Sherlock said softly. His cock felt so hard though. John was so close to it, he felt a bit embarrassed but he tried not to be.

"Is this okay?" John asked, kissing the base of his cock, flicking his tongue out against it. 

"Oh god, yes, very good. Your tongue's so soft and warm," Sherlock said even though he worried it sounded kind of stupid.

John licked his way up the side, kissing the tip. 

"Only do it for one more minute," Sherlock said. It felt so good but he didn't want it to feel too good.

John flicked his tongue over the tip and then sucked the head into his mouth. 

Sherlock let out a small exhale. It was still kind of amazing to him that they were doing these things. It felt so good. It's hard to believe that not that long ago, he never thought about this happening. He had a feeling he'd be spending a lot of time in the future thinking about this happening. "John," he said softly.

John moved down as much as he could, just once, before pulling up and moving away. "Time's up I'm afraid," he said, lying down beside Sherlock. 

"Fuck," Sherlock said. "That was a strange but incredible feeling. I really liked it." He slid his arm under John's shoulder and pulled him close. "You make my body feel really good."

"Like you do mine," John smiled. "But now I really am hard again."

"Let's finish like we did yesterday but with no clothes on. I'll get on top of you," Sherlock slid on top of John. His cock pressed into John's body and he could feel John's erection pushing against his. "Kiss me."

John came up with no hesitation, pressing his lips to Sherlock's. As he lay back down he laced his fingers into his hair and brought him down as well. 

Sherlock started to grind against John. The pressure felt good, but it was even better than yesterday because of the feel of skin on skin. "Oh god, John," Sherlock said. His hips started bucking faster and harder and he felt like he wasn't in full control of his body.

A strangled little moan came with every one of John's hard breaths, his fingers digging into Sherlock's waist as he thrust upwards. Sherlock looked incredible, almost desperate and John knew he was no better. It felt too good to worry about what his face looked like. 

"John, I'm going to come," Sherlock gasped out. His body went tight and he could feel his cock pulse and realised he was getting it all over John, but it was too late and he couldn't stop.

John moaned as he watched Sherlock lose it, biting his lip as his chest and stomach were covered. The thought alone made the heat pool in his stomach and suddenly, shouting out Sherlock's name, he came all over himself as well.

Sherlock's breathing was still rough but he smiled at John and said, "I think I was wise being on the bottom when we kept our clothes on. Without them, it's messier." He sat up and grabbed his shirt and threw it to John. "I'm going to have to start doing my laundry more frequently if we keep this up." He felt so relieved that he didn't have any feelings of panic like he did earlier.

John grinned through his soft panting and wiped himself clean. He'd have to shower when he got home. "I'll gladly do your laundry if it means we get to keep this up," he said.

Sherlock took the shirt from John and tried to find a dry place to wipe himself. Then there was a noise downstairs.

John sat bolt upright, his eyes wide with fear and fixed on Sherlock. He knew it wasn't his dad and in all honesty he didn't care if Sherlock's parents knew about him, but he doubted the best way to tell them was to find him naked in Sherlock's bed.

"Relax," Sherlock said. "We need to get our clothes on." He handed John his clothes and he slipped on his, grabbing his third shirt of the day. He glanced at the clock. "It's a bit early for one of my parents, but they're leaving early tomorrow morning for a weekend away." He looked at John whose face looked stressed. "Relax, please," he said, grabbing John's hands. "Here are your choices: if you really don't want to deal with it, you can shimmy down the pipe outside my window which is difficult but not impossible. Or we can just walk downstairs and speak to whomever it is."

John nodded and got dressed, considering his options. Friends hang out in each other's rooms all the time. Whoever they encountered did not need to know what they had just done. "Um . . .we can go down," he said finally.

"It'll be fine, I promise," Sherlock kissed John on the mouth. They walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Sherlock's father was washing the dishes in the sink.

"Sorry, I would have washed those," Sherlock said.

"I don't doubt you would have . . . at some point," his father said. "Be sure this sink isn't full when we get back on Sunday."

"Someone's here," Sherlock said.

His father turned and looked at John and then went back to washing.

"This is John," Sherlock said. "We're going outside for a fag." He turned and motioned for John. "Let's go to the shed." Once outside, Sherlock said, "See? It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"He didn't say much," John noted. Sherlock's father seemed like he wasn't even really there.

"He rarely does," Sherlock said. He unlocked the shed and stepped in and turned on the radio. He turned and looked at John. "So you imagined us doing it in here?"

John flushed and nodded. "The first time you brought me in here I thought about putting you right up on the table."

"Tell me," Sherlock said, lifting himself up on the table. "Was I sitting or lying flat?" It felt a little dangerous, knowing his father was just inside the house. But not too dangerous, really, because his father wasn't John's father and he knew that there was no way he'd ever come out to the shed.

John walked over and squeezed himself between Sherlock's knees. "Sitting up, panting in my ear," John said quietly. "Arms wrapped around me."

Sherlock slid his arms around John and he hooked his legs around John's back. He leaned in and put his mouth against John's ear. "We should do it like this some time. We can even do it right here in the shed." He kissed John's neck. "Don't get an erection now though."

"You're making it very difficult," John murmured, kissing his temple. "You're simply too sexy to be allowed," he smiled.

"Yes," Sherlock said, smiling. "I am turning into quite the sex god. Thanks to you." He unlocked his legs and slid down from the table. "I won't tease you anymore. It's too cruel."

"Thank you," John smiled. "I should probably head home now," he said quietly.

"John, I have had a great day with you. I wish everyday could be like this. I know it can't be, but I still wish it could. We'll see each other at school tomorrow, though, right?"

"Yes," John smiled. "I will be there tomorrow.  I had a really good time too."

"I hope so," said Sherlock. They walked back in the house. Sherlock's father was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock grabbed some biscuits for John and slipped them in his pocket.

John leaned up and kissed him. "Thank you. See you tomorrow," he smiled. 

Sherlock watched John leave. He nipped back into the kitchen to see if there was anything else to clean up and then went back to his room. He worried it smelled a bit, so he opened the window. He snatched up his two messy shirts and took them into the bathroom to rinse. Then he hung them in his wardrobe to dry. 

He put away the DVD they didn't end up watching and cleared his browser history three times, just to be sure. Then he lay down on his bed, remembering all the things that had happened there.

John was smiling the whole way home. He got back with plenty of time, doing the dishes before hurrying upstairs. He stuffed the biscuits under his pillow for later, flopped down on the bed and started to laugh. He couldn't believe the things that were happening. 


	8. Apart

For the first time in his life, Sherlock went to bed looking forward to school the next day. When he woke, he found a note from his parents, next to fifty pounds. He made a cup of tea, showered and dressed. He walked to college. He couldn't wait to see John. Of course, there was a tiny bit of him that worried John might have changed his mind, was now filled with regret, and would say they couldn't be together anymore. But the other bits of him were stronger this morning, and he couldn't wait to see John's face. The thought made him smile as he walked.

John was waiting outside for Sherlock. Sherlock smiled even wider when he saw John. "My parents have gone for the weekend. If your dad wasn't such a prick, we could go to my house right now and have three days together," Sherlock said.

"The things we'd do in three days," John smiled. "Depending on how tomorrow goes I might be 'seeing' her on Sunday too."

Sherlock frowned. "I thought it would just be a one-off." Of course, it'd make sense that John's father would expect John to keep seeing her. "It makes me nervous thinking about it and I'm not even going on this date."

"Sherlock, that's why I did the thing," he said, doing the air quotes again. "I'd really be seeing you."

"Oh, I see," Sherlock said. He really hoped it'd work out like that. If this girl would play along, maybe John's dad would give him more freedom. Sherlock felt a jolt of anger at how stupid and unfair this was, but he didn't say anything because it didn't matter how stupid or unfair it was, this is just how they'd have to be. "I guess we should go to class. I've got history first, where are you going?"

"Maths," John said. "We can meet at lunch. See you." John hated that they couldn't just spend every minute together.

Sherlock headed off to class. He tried to focus on the lesson but his stomach felt a bit funny. Life was so much more complicated now in so many ways -- some of them very good indeed but some were just stressful. Both he and John had talked about everything being so much better when they got to uni, but didn't people say that about finishing school in the first place. Being at college hadn't been all that much better than being in school. Sherlock worried that things would never be better. The voice in his head was really shouting now. He snuck his phone out and typed a quick text to John.

_Things are going to be okay, right? SH_

John felt the phone go off and he snuck it out of his pocket.

_Yes. I promise. I'm sorry things are so complicated. -JW_

Sherlock felt bad when he saw the message. It wasn't John's fault, it really wasn't. And despite the complications, John had already given him so many new things that made his life more interesting.

_You're worth it, John. Now stop texting and pay attention in class. :) SH_

John smiled.

_Make me. -JW_

_I don't kiss people who fail maths. SH_

_Good thing I'm acing it. What do you do for that? -JW_

Sherlock looked at the text. He quickly looked around the room.

_Fuck. SH_

He sent it before he could decide not to. There was something exciting about being secretive at school because it wasn't about John's dad. It felt like the consequences weren't as drastic. He couldn't be 'asked to leave' for writing fuck in a text, could he? He didn't care anyway, but sat smirking, imagining John's face when he read it.

John's eyes widened slightly and he looked around as if everyone could read it.

_Time and place, baby. -JW_

John had to fight from giggling out loud. Why was this so easy over texts, when in person he was just a fumbling idiot?

_My shed. One hour. SH_

Sherlock kept smirking to himself. But then he felt panicked, John wouldn't really think he meant now, would he? He'd know Sherlock was teasing, right, he wouldn't try to leave school . . . if John got in trouble in any way, his father would find out and it'd be Sherlock's fault. God, Sherlock hated John's father, ruining even this little bit of fun. But Sherlock would feel so bad if something happened, he couldn't take the risk.

_I'm kidding about the hour. But not about the shed. I promise. SH_

_I figured you were kidding about both. But we'll see about the shed. -JW_

John couldn't help thinking about the shed again.

_If you make me hard at school I'll kill you. -JW_

The thought of John getting hard made Sherlock's cock twinge. Images from yesterday flashed in his mind, but he did his best to shut them out or he'd definitely get an erection. He tried to focus on the lecture but it was so tedious.

_Let's xx at lunch please. Think of somewhere we could go. SH_

_Behind the school? -JW_

_I'll need a smoke. Around the corner maybe? SH_

_Don't smoke. Kiss me instead. -JW_

_I need both. Sorry. SH_

_Please? -JW_

Hmmm, Sherlock thought. What was John doing? Is this one of those 'we're together now' rules? Did John want to change Sherlock?

_I'll kiss you before. SH_

_I don't mind kissing you after. I'm just pestering you. :) -JW_

Sherlock smiled.

_Then I'll kiss you after as well. SH_

Sherlock looked at the clock. Two more hours until lunch. He moved to his next lesson, hoping to see John in the hallway, but he didn't. He didn't get his phone out again until lunch time.

_Meet me by the news agents around the corner. SH_

Sherlock headed out. He set his alarm: he and John could not miss chemistry class.

_Okay. -JW_

John pocketed his phone and walked very quickly to find Sherlock. "I'll stop that bad habit one day," he smiled, kissing his cheek.

When Sherlock saw John approach, he smiled. John was good, good for him.

"We'll see," Sherlock said. They talked about class and about being bored. Sherlock dropped his cigarette, but picked up the butt to put in the bin once he'd stepped on it. "Come down here, it's not very romantic but it's private," he said, leading John into the alley between the shops. He pulled John behind a skip. "Let's just kiss soft," he said, sliding his arms around John's waist. "It's too difficult to avoid getting hard thinking about sex stuff in class." He kissed John's mouth softly.

"I'll think of this and that won't help," John mumbled between kisses. Sherlock tasted so good, and his lips were so soft. It was perfect.

"Just keep your hips away from mine," Sherlock laughed. "Just be soft." He kissed him gently on the lips. "I like you," he said quietly.

"I like you, too," John said, pecking his lips. He kept his eyes open, taking in his face. He was so handsome.

"Well, don't get too distracted by me in class, yeah?" Sherlock said, stepping away. "I've only come today to help with you. I could be at the cafe, enjoying myself, but no, I'm here being bored out of my skull. Just so you pass this stupid class. So no funny business. Maybe we shouldn't even sit by each other?" Sherlock smiled as he spoke. "Maybe just being next to me will you drive you into a frenzy and all your knowledge of chemistry will be erased." He lightly pinched John's arm.

John shoved him lightly. "If you sit far away from me, I'll only end up staring longingly and failing anyways!" When he couldn't get Sherlock to stand still enough for another kiss John shoved him again, grinning at him.

"Fine, we'll sit together but neither of us should be thinking about the things we did yesterday, right? We need to focus," Sherlock said. His alarm went off. "Come on," he said. "We should get back." He lit another cigarette.

John snatched the cigarette and started to run away from him, laughing as he glanced back.

"You're a little shit," Sherlock said running after him. They raced back to the school gates and stopped. "I let you win," Sherlock said as he bent over to catch his breath. He stood back up. "I wish I could kiss you again," he whispered before they walked back in.

"Sure," John laughed, pocketing the cigarette. "And you can do that later."

They walked into class. Sherlock got out some paper to keep notes along with John. At one point, he leaned over and wrote "BORED" at the top of John's notes, but he did his best not to distract John too much.

John smiled and, in between jotting things down, he drew different faces in each of the letters. 

Sherlock wrote "Focus or no more x." He smiled as he wrote it, but he also needed John to listen to things. Obviously he wasn't just John's tutor anymore, but now he had a personal interest in John's passing this class. He then scribbled, "You can do this."

John looked over at him and smiled before drawing a sad face next to Sherlock's first message. Then he looked up to the board and took his notes.  

After class, Sherlock led John to the lab. He pushed the door shut and stood behind it. "Listen, I know you have got to get straight home. Can I just ask you please, please, please let me know what's going on tomorrow? I already feel sick about this date and it's over 24 hours away. Please, John, text or call or something. At the very least, let me know when it's over and you're home safe. Okay?" His face was genuinely concerned.

"Sherlock . . ." For one second he wished he hadn't told Sherlock about the hitting, hating how worried he was all the time. "I promise it's going to be fine. We're just going to eat dinner. We'll make small talk about school. That's all. I'm not going to bring this up unless I know it's going to work. Please, please don't worry."

"I will, John," Sherlock said, grabbing John's hand. "I will because you're my friend and I care about you. It's not a bad thing, you jerk. It's a good thing because you mean a lot to me."

"That's just how it is -- how it's been. I'm used to it. When you worry . . ." John swallowed hard. "When you worry, it makes it scary. Dangerous. Like I can't handle it. I can. It's fine."

Sherlock said, "I'm sorry, John. I hadn't thought about it like that. You're right. It is scary to me. Because it's horrible and also because it's new. To you it's just horrible and that's better than horrible and scary, I guess. I just . . ." he slide his arms around John and hugged him, "I just want you to be okay."

"I will. I promise," John mumbled, hugging him back. 

"Good," Sherlock said into John's hair. "Look, I'm on my own tonight so text or something if you're bored. I'm going to try to be a little more productive than I have been. I won't wank more than twice an hour," he said, pulling back to smile at John. "I promise."

"I will be bored. But maybe I'll do that, too. Maybe I'll call you and whisper dirty things in your ear," he grinned. 

"You are such a pervert," Sherlock said laughing. "Look, you should get going. We'll both be okay. If you get too bored, you can always study chemistry, you know."

They walked out towards the street and John hailed a cab. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yeah," Sherlock looked around and saw all the other kids coming through the school gates. He reached out his hand for John to shake. "Shake my hand good bye. Every time we shake hands, it equals one kiss, okay? Shake it and we owe each other one kiss." He smiled.

"You're a goof," John laughed, shaking Sherlock's hand with both of his. 

"Two hands means two kisses, you fool," Sherlock said. "Get in the taxi." He turned around and started walking. He waited until John's taxi passed before he lit up a cigarette. He decided to skip the cafe on the walk home.

When he got back to his house, he sorted through the post. There was a letter for him. He made himself a cup of tea. He took the tea, the letter and the newspapers upstairs. He lay down on the bed and drank a little tea. He opened the envelope, read the letter and then ripped it up into many pieces which he dropped into a pile on the nightstand. Before opening the papers, he lay his head on the pillow and within a few minutes, he had fallen asleep.

John was changing into pajamas when he realised he still had the cigarette. He smiled and stuffed it under his pillow where he felt the biscuits from the day before. He pulled them out and nibbled on them as he read his book. For a second he thought about looking up more videos, but he did still live with his dad and he couldn't let himself get carried away. 

When Sherlock awoke from his nap, he got up and worked on his blog. He didn't post anything but at least started a piece, which was more than he'd done in a week. He ate a few biscuits. He changed into his pajamas and then had a little laugh at himself -- a kid with the house to himself for a weekend and here he was going to bed earlier than usual. He didn't care, it's what he felt like doing. He climbed into the bed and turned on the radio to listen to a documentary as he did the crosswords. Eventually he fell asleep, with the light still on.

John continued to read through the night, finally passing out on his open book. A nightmare started almost immediately. Sherlock had come over to his house to hang out and John didn't have the heart to send him away. He kept looking out of the window for his dad who ended up coming in through the back. After beating John nearly senseless, he killed Sherlock. That's when John jerked awake and grabbed for his phone, panting lightly.

_Are you awake? -JW_

Sherlock heard his phone. It sounded so loud, probably because he knew the house was so empty. He picked it up and rubbed his eyes before reading John's text.

_I am now. You okay? SH_

_I'm sorry I woke you. Seems silly now--had a nightmare. -JW_

He draped his arm over his eyes and sighed. He'd had nightmares before. Why was he bothering Sherlock about this? It's not like he was going to tell him the end of it.

_Pretend you're sleeping here. You're safe here. SH_

Sherlock wished John were sleeping here, he wished he could put his arms around John and keep him safe.

John blinked for a moment as he considered doing something really stupid. John pulled the blankets nearly over his head and curled up comfortably. He reached under his pillow for the cigarette, bringing it close to his face so he could smell it. Sherlock might as well be right next to him. He'd keep this to himself though.

_Okay. Thank you. -JW_

_We're in bed and my arms are around you. No funny stuff. Just safe. One day. I promise. SH_

_One day soon. xx -JW_

John stared at the little X's for a long time, deleting them twice before deciding to leave them in. It seemed out of character for him but maybe Sherlock wouldn't mind.

_That's 4 now you owe me. :) You going back to sleep now? SH_

_You owe me near twenty then! I think I'll read until I fall asleep again. -JW_

_Text me back if you need me. SH_

_Go to sleep. :) Thank you. -JW_

Sherlock set his phone on the bedside table. He tried to go back to sleep but he was thinking of John and what they could do to change the situation. Until he realised there was nothing to do to change the situation. He fell asleep shortly thereafter.

John read until he fell asleep on his book again, but this time he didn't dream. When he woke up his eyes fell on the cigarette and he smiled, stuffing it under his pillow again before getting up.

When Sherlock woke, he got up and made some tea but took it and the newspaper back to bed. He had planned to be productive this weekend, but he wasn't in the mood right this minute. He didn't allow himself to fall asleep again though. An hour later he finally got up for good. He showered and dressed and then uploaded the piece he worked on last night to his blog. He did all his homework, then regretted it, wishing he had saved some for the evening as a distraction during the date. He went out for a walk to the shop. When he got back, he made a cup of tea and took it with him out to the shed.

John worked on homework to pass the time until his dad made him clean the house for his boss tonight. Then he showered and started to get ready for the date.

Sherlock didn't enjoy working in the shed, mainly because he proved his hypothesis wrong. He knew it wasn't a failure -- experiments were about figuring out the truth -- but he had been pretty sure something else was going to happen. He became aware of the radio again; though he turned it on when he came in, his focus had kept him from hearing it. He wondered what time John would be leaving for his date. He picked up his phone but had no messages.

_Good luck. SH_

John heard his phone and grabbed it quickly. He bit his lip, unsure how to feel about the message.

_I'll be thinking about you the whole time. -JW_

Sherlock smiled.

_I'll be thinking of you. But not worrying because I know you can handle it. SH_

Sherlock knew he was telling John a lie. He would be worrying. But he could keep it to himself. John was stronger than Sherlock realised, but he didn't need Sherlock's fear as baggage to carry as well.

_Liar :) But I appreciate it. -JW_

_Knowing what's going on will help. But only if you can. SH_

Sherlock went back into the house. He turned on the television and flipped through the channels. Everything was boring. He left it on the news channel. He stood up and picked a book off the shelf. It had 231 pages so he decided to time himself reading it. That would kill some time and keep him distracted.

When John got dressed he went downstairs to find his dad.

"They'll be here in an hour. You can take the car and don't drive like a damn maniac."

"I won't," John said. 

Sherlock gave up on the book after a while. He liked the challenge but the book was boring. He decided to take a bath. He ran the water hot and brought the radio in and set it on the toilet seat. He listened to music as he soaked in the water. It helped to relax him.

John waited in the sitting room for them to arrive, listening to his dad move around in the kitchen. He had his phone out but he merely tapped it on his leg for something to do. Finally, the door bell sounded and he got up to get it.

"You must be John," the man said, lightly tugging his daughter closer. "This is Mary."

"Hello," John said. She was pretty, about the same height as John with long dark hair. She smiled and didn't say anything back.

"Well, invite them in, John." His dad came over and pulled the door open further, tugging John to the side so they could come in.

"We'll just be going," Mary said, tugging John out of the house. John opened the door for her before getting in.

"Pizza?"

"What? Yeah," John nodded, pulling away from the house. "I know a good place."

Sherlock got out of the bath and as he was drying off, he looked at himself in the mirror. When he took off his clothes in front of John, John had said he was gorgeous, but Sherlock didn't really see anything gorgeous in the mirror. Could a man's body be gorgeous? Could any body? It was just a collection of functions. He tried to imagine someone he thought was gorgeous. Obviously he found John attractive but it was because he knew John, he liked John. He was starting to recognise looks in John's eyes, his different types of smiles, the way he moved and how it indicated his moods. Sherlock liked all those things. He decided not to worry about it -- it didn't matter if Sherlock liked men or women or both or neither. Sherlock liked John.

He decided to put on his pajamas even though it was too early to do so. He lay down on his bed. He couldn't help wondering about John. Maybe John would think this girl was gorgeous. Maybe John would change his mind.

When they got to the restaurant and sat down, Mary pulled out her phone and started texting someone. "So," John started, but she held up her finger. Finally she looked at John.

"Listen, John. I'm sure you're a great guy, but I have a boyfriend. My dad hates him and he's dragged me here hoping I'll get rid of him. I won't. So let's just get through this, okay?"

John blinked at her, unable to believe his luck. "I have someone else, too. Maybe we could help each other out. We keep seeing our boyfriends and if any questions come up, we cover for each other."

"What?" she asked, putting her phone down.

John realised what he'd said. "Fuck -- I mean . . . please don't tell."

"Relax," she smiled. "I don't care who you see. Let's tell them we have plans for tomorrow then."

"Yes, great," John smiled.  He was still nervous about reveling so much but maybe it would be okay.

Sherlock was tired of thinking of everything that could go wrong. He put his favourite film in and started watching it. As he did, he recited the lines along with the actors. He did his best to step into, even though he knew what was going to happen and the characters didn't. He was trying to escape waiting.

When John and Mary finished eating, both of them more comfortable that nothing was to come out of this, he paid with the money his dad had given him and drove back to his house. Their dads were done and waiting for them. Mary, a bit too enthusiastically, told them about their plans tomorrow. When they left, John's dad proudly clapped him on the back before letting him go upstairs. 

_I'm home. She's going to help us. She has a boyfriend. -JW_

When Sherlock heard his phone go, he felt a jolt in his stomach. He felt so relieved when he read the text.

_I'm glad. All okay with your dad? SH_

_Yes. All good. -JW_

_Is she pretty? SH_

_Not as much as you :) -JW_

Sherlock liked the response, though it wasn't technically an answer to the question.

_What are you doing now? SH_

_Figuring out where I want to take you tomorrow. -JW_

_And what have you decided? SH_

_Well, what do you want to do? Dinner? Movie? -JW  
_

Sherlock didn't really go to movies and besides he didn't want to sit silently in the dark with John -- he wanted to be able to talk to and see him.

_Dinner, yes. No to movie. I only like the ones I already have. SH_

Actually the more he thought about it, maybe dinner wasn't such a good idea either. After all, John had just been on a date tonight. If they went to dinner tomorrow, wouldn't he just be comparing them? Sherlock had never been on a date, he didn't know how to act. He barely knew how to act when just hanging out, a date was bound to be more complicated and more stressful. He'd already had enough stress for the weekend.

_We could just get something to eat at the cafe. SH_

_We always do that. I wanted to make it something special since it's our first real date. -JW_

He felt a bit silly writing it, but he was also excited. _  
_

_All right then. I've never been on a date. Do I need to buy you a corsage? :) SH_

_Shut up. No. We'll just go out :) -JW_

_Be nice. I feel stupid. You've done everything. You are my first of everything. SH_

Sherlock's finger hovered over the send button. He hit it.

_I was only teasing. I'm sorry. -JW_

_I'm glad it's you. I wish you were here now. I'd like to xx. SH_

_That's twenty two :) I'll see you tomorrow. I'm excited. -JW_

_What time? Earlier better. I am so tired of waiting. SH_

_I have to see what Mary says. I'm sorry. -JW_

Sherlock was annoyed. He wasn't annoyed at John. He was annoyed at everything that what out of his control. One thing that was good about being alone was that he always got to be in control of himself. Now there was so much that he had no control over. But Sherlock felt sure that John was worth this feeling.

_That's okay. Let me know. Are you in your bedroom? SH  
_

_I will text her and find out. I'm really sorry it has to be this way. I am in my room. -JW_

_Text me when you get into bed please. SH_

John changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth and got into bed.

_I'm lying down now. -JW_

He felt silly writing that but he sent it anyways and waited.

Sherlock slipped under his covers.

_I'm in bed too. Remember what we did in my bed? SH_

_Of course I do. -JW_

_Think about it now. I will too. SH_

John closed his eyes and imagined it for a few minutes.

_I like the real thing better. -JW_

_Me too. But since we're apart, do what I did to you. With your hand. I'll do it too. SH_

Sherlock couldn't believe himself really, but it would be nice to do it and it would be nicer to do it together.

John stuffed his hand into his pants and stroked himself, pretending it was Sherlock's hand.

_Swipe your thumb over the tip. -JW_

Sherlock slipped his hand into his pajama bottoms. He had started to get hard the minute John's text said he was in bed. He stroked himself a few times and then moved his thumb over the tip like John had done. It felt good, the touch felt good but the remembering also felt good.

_Think about me kissing your neck. SH_

John tilted his head back and bit his lip to keep quiet.  He moved his hand faster, twisting a bit.

_What's your spot? -JW_

_I'm not sure but I liked when you touched my hair. No one's ever done that. SH_

_I might pull it lightly. I'll find one next time. -JW_

_What else will you do? SH_

Sherlock slipped off his pajama bottoms. He moved his legs against the sheets. He set his other hand on the top of his thigh as he stroked. He left his phone on his chest. He closed his eyes and pictured John kissing him.

_I will kiss every inch of you--neck, chest, stomach, groin, thighs, and cock. -JW_

Sherlock imagined John doing those things. It was good. He felt like he was getting even harder though that couldn't be possible.

_Lie on your side. I'll lie behind you and rub against you. SH_

John turned on his side and imagined it.

_Is that what we'll do next time? -JW_

_Yes. We'll do that. SH_

John grinned and hummed softly.

_No covers next time. -JW_

_Think about me putting it in. I am thinking about it. SH_

_It would be tight. You're big.-JW_

Was Sherlock big? He didn't know. He wasn't as big as some of the men in the videos and bigger than others. He worried, he didn't want to hurt John.

_I'll go slow. I want it to feel good to you. SH_

_It will. I trust you. -JW_

_I'm thinking of slowly pushing it in. Then moving against you, pushing it further. SH_

_It would feel so good. -JW_

Sherlock felt his hips moving to match his stroke. It was hard to really imagine what it might feel like being inside of John. He tightened his hand over his cock. It was good but surely not the same. Then he remembered his early morning trip to the shop the other day.   
  
_I bought us supplies. SH_

_Supplies? -JW_

John was stroking faster now, thrusting into his hand.

Sherlock leaned over to his bottom drawer and took out the bag. He squeezed some lube into his hand and moved it around his fingers. He could see how this would be beneficial. He moved his slick hand down to his cock. It was a different feeling but nice.

_I researched. I bought condoms and lube. It feels weird on my hand but it should be helpful. SH_

_Is it sticky? -JW_

John had of course used condoms before but not the lube. Now that he thought about it he was glad Sherlock was thinking ahead. He imagined sliding the condom on for him, even sliding it on himself as he teased Sherlock's hole. He gripped himself tighter.

_Not at all actually. It's slick. I really want to do it now. SH_

Sherlock's hand was moving more quickly now. His face felt flush. He imagined John's body with its tight muscles. He imagined John's handsome face and his mouth. He felt like he was close to coming, but he wanted to stay in his imagination as long as he could.

_Imagine I'm on top of you now. I'm moving faster and harder but it doesn't hurt. I want to, John. SH_

John moaned softly, smearing his precome for better movement, his hand moving quicker.

_I want to do it too. With you. -JW_

John squeezed his eyes shut and imagined wrapping his legs around Sherlock, imagined him thrusting into him like the videos. Then, because he didn't know how the first time would go he also imagined himself thrusting into Sherlock. He was panting now. It all looked so good.

Sherlock imagined John pushing in to him as well. It seemed equally sexy, exciting that they both could do it. The muscles in his body began tightening and he knew he was going to come. He tried to imagine coming with John, into John, John coming into him. His body froze from his orgasm and then he crumpled on the bed.

_Sorry. I had to finish. I was thinking of us. SH_

John smiled at the message and let himself go to the thoughts of being with Sherlock. He pressed his face into the pillow as he came, whispering Sherlock's name.

_I just finished as well. I wish I could have heard your voice. -JW  
_

_I was screaming my head off :) We can be as loud as you want tomorrow. SH_

God, how Sherlock wished John were next to him. Everything was so unfair. But he tried not to think about that. 

_You are really sexy to me. SH_

_You're sexy as well. Always. And we're only going on our date tomorrow. If you're going to bed me I'd like dinner first. :) -JW_

_Fine, I will wine and dine. But my parents will be back around 9pm. So don't eat too slowly. SH_

_I'll have to come home after the dinner. He's going to think I'm with Mary and I can't 'stay the night' with her on our second date. -JW_

Sherlock was so annoyed because John was absolutely right. Things felt even more unfair.

_I'm just impatient. I understand though. I still can't wait to see you. SH_

_I'm sorry. I'll try and set something up again quickly. I can't wait to see you either. I owe you several kisses. xxxx -JW_

_I'm going to try to go to sleep now. Until tomorrow. xx SH_

_Love you._

John stared at the words in utter surprise, especially at the ease in which he'd typed them. He deleted them quickly and flushed even though he was alone in his room.

_Until tomorrow. Goodnight. -JW_

When John settled in to sleep he couldn't stop imagining saying those words to Sherlock, and he fell asleep imagining all of the different ways Sherlock would react.

Sherlock moved over to what he now thought of as John's side of the bed. He imagined wrapping his arms around him and falling to sleep. He fell asleep.

When he woke he was slightly thrown off, not being in his usual place. The house was so silent. He got up and made a cup of tea, turning the radio on just for company. He tidied the house, doing all the dishes just to spite his father.

John woke up at almost noon, seeing that he had a text. His stomach flipped, thinking it was Sherlock but it was actually from Mary.

_I told my dad you're getting me at five and that we're doing a quick dinner and a movie. That gives us until nine. Don't worry about driving by here, they won't be home. -MM_

John quickly sent his agreement and then texted Sherlock about the time and wondering if he'd picked a restaurant yet. He couldn't believe this was actually working.

Sherlock heard his phone and was pleased there was actually now a plan.

_A Japanese place not far from mine. Is that okay? SH_

_Sounds good. I'll come to your house around five and we can go from there. -JW_

John's stomach was flipping wildly as he scrambled to get up and ready even though there were still hours to go. He was going on an actual date with Sherlock, right under his dad's nose! He was nervous, of course, because so many things could go wrong, but as long as Mary didn't say anything it would all be fine.

_I can't wait. Be careful. If anything changes, I'll understand. SH_

Sherlock felt both more relaxed and more anxious at the same time. He was happy he and John were going on a date, on a real date not one like he went on with the girl. But he couldn't help worrying that something was going to go terribly wrong and at 4.45, he'd get a text from John saying he couldn't come or, worse, he'd decided to go with the girl instead. Sherlock hated this insecurity but didn't know how to stop it.

_It won't. I promise. -JW_

John ate a quick breakfast and then went straight into the shower. His father didn't say anything to him, clearly pleased that John was showing some enthusiasm for this date. If only he knew. He busied himself with reading and looking through Sherlock's blog again until it was time to get dressed. 

Sherlock was ready an hour early, which embarrassed him but he couldn't help it. He listened to the radio as he drank some tea. This was going to be fun, he told himself, it'll be just him and John on a date and it'll be good.


	9. First Date

When John left -- his dad let him take the car again -- he didn't text Sherlock, wanting to surprise him. He drove happily, grinning the whole way. When he pulled up to the house he honked three times.

Sherlock rushed outside when he heard the horn. As he got in the car, he said, "Rude! My family was expecting you to come in and ask for permission to take me out. And where's my corsage?" He smiled.

John leaned over and kissed him hard. Then he kissed all over his face four times, pulling away and grinning. "Where am I going?" He asked, pulling away from the house.

"Left here, keep going until the second roundabout, go right and it's on the right. I didn't know you could drive. Are you safe?"

"Of course I'm safe. I'm an excellent driver," John smiled.

"Have you ever had Japanese food before? I like it because it's excellent for picking at," Sherlock said. He smiled at John. "I've missed seeing you. It's stupid, it's only been since Friday, but I did. I wish I could see you everyday."

"I haven't had Japanese before," John said. "But I missed you too. I'm really happy we were able to do this today," he smiled.

"Me too. This is my first date though. I don't know how to act."

"The same way you've always acted," John smiled. "Relax."

"I'll try," Sherlock said, looking out the window. "But by now, you must know I prefer knowing what I'm doing. Since meeting you, though, it appears that's not an option. You're worth it, it's just weird." He turned to look at John and smiled.

When they arrived, they got a booth in the corner. They looked over the menu. "What kind of things do you like? Do you want to try sushi?"

"I've never tried it," John said. "I can today, though."

"We'll get a bunch so you can try different kinds," Sherlock marked the sheet to give to the server. Once they'd ordered, he said, "What did you talk about on your date last night?"

"School mostly, her boyfriend, you, our dads -- I left out a lot, of course," John said.

"Hmm . . . what did you say about me? Did you say he's so handsome or did you say I was smart or weird or totally socially backward?"

"I said that you were smart and handsome," John smiled. "Then she told me about her boyfriend." 

"Was she interesting? Do you think you could like her? I mean, as a friend?" he said, even though that's not what he was really worried about.

John nodded. "I think we could be friends. You might like her." He fixed Sherlock with a soft gaze. "No one will ever be you, though. Not to me."

"You're sweet," Sherlock said, reaching over to touch John's hand. "Remember last night? Do you think that was too weird that we did that?" Sherlock had spent most of his life being weird, but he was always weird alone so it never bothered him.

John flushed lightly at the compliment but shook his head. "It wasn't weird. Couples do things like that when they can't be together," he said. He opened his hand and held Sherlock's properly.

"So we're a couple now? Does that mean I should start nagging you to buy me presents and pay more attention to me?" Sherlock looked down. "Well, I guess I've already been nagging you to pay more attention to me. Sorry."

"You haven't, don't apologise," John said. "But I like to think we are. And that means I can properly nag you to quit smoking," he grinned.

"I was feeling good about this until now," Sherlock laughed. "I'm glad you're my . . . boyfriend," he said shyly.

John grinned. "Say it again," he murmured.

"You are my boyfriend," Sherlock said. "And I'm yours. You lucky man."

"Very lucky," John grinned.

"John, I don't just like you for, you know, the kissing and stuff," Sherlock said looking down at the table. "I like that and all and I know I talk about it lot, but it's just because it's new and . . . good, obviously. But I really like you. You make me feel okay being myself around someone else. That's kind of never happened to me before."

John grinned and gripped his hand a bit harder. "I really like you a lot too, and not just because of the kissing. There's so much more . . ." he trailed off, wishing he could find the words.

The server came up to the table and set down the plates of sushi. Sherlock explained the different types and warned John about the wasabi. "You can use chopsticks, but they don't in Japan. They just use their hands so do whatever you want." He popped a piece into his mouth.

"I like the sticks," John smiled, taking a piece without sauce. "It's good."

"I'm glad I could show you something new," Sherlock said. "You look cute with your mouth full." 

John flashed him a playful look. When he swallowed he said, "Is that meant to be foreplay then?" He grinned at Sherlock.

"Yes definitely. Once we've eaten, we can go have sex in the toilets," he joked. "I figured this is all it would take to get you going."

John shoved his hand lightly and took another bite.

As they finished their dinner, the conversation was more normal. They talked a bit about school, about television, about Sherlock's experiments. It was normal -- _their_ normal -- and Sherlock was glad their dates could be like this.

"Want to get ice cream or something before we have to go?" John asked, not wanting this to end just yet.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Sherlock said. "I wish tonight didn't have to end. Plus my parents are coming back. I liked pretending I lived on my own and having nothing to think about except for a date with my boyfriend."

John smiled. "As soon as we get to university it will be like that," he said. "Along with a whole bunch of homework."

"I hope so," Sherlock said. "I thought college would be harder but it's not been. I prefer to be challenged." Sherlock got some money out of his wallet. "Let me pay for this since you drove. Hey, that reminds me. Do you still have that twenty quid I gave you to hold for me or have you spent it on online porn?"

"First off the computer doesn't take cash, so there," he teased. "Second, I do still have it. Third, I'm paying because I said I would take you out. You can get it next time."

"But John, I know I've got more money than you, just because of my parents. I don't want to use money you'll need at uni. But I also don't want to fight with you. But don't use that twenty. Like I said, keep it, just in case, yeah?"

"I can buy a dinner for my boyfriend," John smiled. "I will get a job when we go to university anyways, and I already promised I wouldn't spend that."

"Fine, you can earn the money and I'll do the cooking and keep the house clean," Sherlock smiled, "or I'll pay someone to come keep the house clean."

John chuckled and shook his head, getting up to go. "That's fine. I'll take care of my baby," he smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"I'm not a baby, John," Sherlock said more roughly than he had expected. "Sorry. I don't like that name. Mycroft always calls me a baby and I hate it. And him."

John flinched lightly at his tone but nodded quickly. "I meant it like -- well, never mind. Sorry."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be a jerk about it. But I can't help it, it reminds me of him and . . . anyway." Sherlock smiled. "Probably baby should be crossed off your pet name list. That and freak in case you were considering that one also."

"I would never consider that one," John said.  "Come on. Let's get our ice cream," he said, getting into the car now and pulling off.

"Chocolate or vanilla? Or some fancy pants flavour?"

John snorted a laugh. "I like mint," he said. "What about you?"

"Chocolate, I guess. Here, turn in here," he said suddenly. "This place has ice cream and cakes and stuff."

John took a sharp turn and parked the car, letting Sherlock lead the way inside.

Sherlock walked to the counter and said, "May I have the smallest bowl of chocolate you've got and a cup of tea please? And what ever my date wants," he turned and pulled a face at John. After John ordered, Sherlock said, "Can I at least pay for these?"

John shook his head and paid for the creams.  He led the way to a back table and sat down smiling at Sherlock. "So? What's the verdict of your first date?"

"I've liked it," Sherlock said. "Because it was you. And because it was free," he laughed. "Thanks for being my first date, John." Sherlock touched John's hand with his spoon.

John grinned. "That's cold," he protested pointlessly. "You've been a lot of my firsts, too."

"First what? Experiment filled shed? Video-inspired hallucination? Sushi?"

"My first hand job," John smiled. "The first person I've ever told about my father. And those other things," he added with a shrug.

"You're joking?" Sherlock said. "The girls didn't do that to you? Hmm, I wish I would've known. I was worried I'd pale in comparison." He smiled. "I'm glad you told me about your dad, John. I'm glad you have someone to talk to. I'll always listen, no matter what."

John nodded and mixed his ice cream around. "I hate that I make you worry all the time," he said quietly.

"First off, you don't make me worry. I worry because of him. Secondly, I'm quite good at worrying. Anxiety is what keeps my figure so trim. If I didn't worry, I'd be a fat man," Sherlock said. "My grandfather once said that. I don't even remember when or why."

"Well, I still feel bad. I just keep trying to remember that it'll be over soon."

Sherlock smiled. "If it works out with this girl, the rest of the wait will be a lot easier. I wonder if I'll ever meet her? I don't know how I feel about that."

"If you really wanted to, maybe if we end up good friends," John said.

"We'll see. It's weird. She did go out on a date with my boyfriend before I did. At least I win when it comes to handjobs." He made a motion with his hand.

"Stop that!" John laughed, blushing and looking around. Luckily no one saw. "Pervert," he teased quietly.

"I can't help it. It's your fault anyway. Before you I never did that kind of stuff, I never even thought about it, remember? That's all your fault. I wish we had more time tonight. Maybe you could take the girl on a date this week and come over instead? I don't want to have to wait until next weekend."

"Okay," John nodded. "I'll talk to her tomorrow and see what she says," he smiled.

"Or we could just skive one morning or afternoon. I just want to, you know, be by ourselves," Sherlock could feel himself getting aroused but hoped he wouldn't get an erection.

John grinned. "I know. I do too." He checked the time and sighed. "Come on. We have to get back."

"All right," he took a final bite of his ice cream and stood up. "You look nice by the way," he said as he watched John walk ahead of him. "Your backside . . . looks good."

"Thanks," John smiled. "You look nice as well," he said as they got in the car.

"I only wear this purple shirt for special occasions," he said, smiling at John.

"It looks very good," John grinned.

"Thanks. Want me to remove it and you can take it home and sleep with it?" he smiled widely at John. Sherlock never used to be silly like this, but he liked being this way with John.

"And when my dad sees it you can plan the funeral," he joked.

Sherlock frowned. "Don't joke, John. I'm trying not to worry but it doesn't help when you make jokes like that." He reached over and put his hand on John's.

John bit his lip and nodded. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I'm sorry, too," Sherlock said. "I know I probably make it worse when I get tense but I just can't help it right now. I'll try not to get so worked up. I know it's not fair to you. God, John, let's not end our date on a serious note like this." He leaned over and quickly kissed John's cheek. "Don't crash us."

"I'm not going to crash. And you don't make things worse. Always better." John flashed him another smile as he pulled up to Sherlock's house again. "Let me walk you to the door," he said as he got out.

"You're so gentlemanly," Sherlock said laughing as he got out of the car. "I can't believe you made me open the car door by myself!" he added, as they walked up to the front door. "Just come in for one second so we can have our proper, first date goodnight kiss. I don't want to do it on the step. I promise I won't make you late."

"A proper first date kiss is always on the step. No self respecting gentleman invites a date inside on the first date," he smiled and before Sherlock could argue John leaned up and kissed him.

Sherlock didn't want the kiss to end but he knew it had to. "Thank you for a lovely date," he whispered into John's ear.

John kissed his cheek and nodded. "I'll let you know about this week," he said, heading for the car.

"Text me later if you're bored," Sherlock said. "Don't skive tomorrow and if you do, make sure to let me know. I'll see you in the morning."

"I won't," John promised, climbing into the car. It was with a heavy feeling in his chest that he left Sherlock's. Everything had worked out so perfectly and now, in the quiet of the car, he couldn't help thinking that maybe it had been too perfect. He felt nervous and he wouldn't relax until he got to bed.

Sherlock went in and filled then turned on the kettle. He put two bags in pot and set out two mugs for when his parents returned. He made himself a cup and went up to his bedroom. _So that's what a date is like_ , he thought. He set his alarm for the morning and checked his blog, all the while wishing John were still with him.

John parked the car and saw that the light in the sitting room was still on. He realised he hadn't discussed with Mary what they did on the 'date', but if he kept it vague perhaps he could get away with it. When he walked in his dad called out to him immediately. He popped his head into the sitting room.

"In here. Now," his father said, his words bristling with anger. 

John blinked and stepped properly into the room. He didn't like his dad's tone one bit.

"I've just had a call from my boss. Mary was caught in her room with some boy who was not you," his father said.

John remained quiet, watching him and waiting. His stomach was twisting so hard he was sure he was going to vomit.


	10. John's Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _This chapter contains scenes of physical abuse._   
> 

"After I dropped her off?" John asked quietly. His dad sprang up and hit him so hard that he fell down.

"She told her father the arrangement you two made. That you're seeing a fucking boy?" He was shouting now, pulling John up and hitting his face and arms and stomach. John was struggling to run, to get away from him. He was getting angry now, his whole body sore.

"I love him," John shouted back, just to spite him now even though it was true. It made his father stop for a moment, blinking at John who wiped blood from his nose. And then he was hitting him again, harder than before.

"Get out!" he bellowed, shoving John towards the stairs. He fell over them and scrambled up. "Find your fag sister for all I care but get the hell out of my house!"

John hurried up to his room and packed his bag with clothes, stuffing them away, hardly aware of what he was taking with him. When it wouldn't fit any more, he moved on to his backpack, filling that as well. He stuffed the envelope with Sherlock's money into it and ran out of the house. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he knew his nose was still bleeding. His whole body hurt and he was visibly shaking. He hailed a cab and, with his voice trembling, gave Sherlock's address.

"Um . . . are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital, kid?"

John shook his head, not saying anything else. He should have known better than to think it would be so easy. But he was gone now and he was never going back home.

When the cab pulled up John gave him the envelope without waiting for change and ran to Sherlock's door, pounding on it. He'd started crying and he hoped that his parents weren't home yet.

Sherlock heard banging. Why couldn't his parents just open the door and come in like normal people? He went down and opened it. When he saw John's face, he couldn't say anything. He stepped out and softly put his arms around him and helped him in. He didn't know the details but he knew who had done this. Sherlock was crying. "Oh god, John, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

John sagged into his arms and sobbed, his bags forgotten. He tried to gasp out some sort of explanation, to tell him it wasn't his fault, but nothing came out. It would have to wait.

"Come upstairs, I need to look at you to decide whether or not we need to go to hospital," Sherlock said, picking up John's bags and holding his arms as they went upstairs. He set the bags in his room and walked John into the bathroom, turning on the light. He rinsed a flannel in warm water and started dabbing on John's face. "Your nose is swollen but it doesn't seem broken and it looks like the bleeding's stopped. Jesus, John. You know we should call the police. I know you don't want to and I won't do anything you don't want to do, but he shouldn't be allowed to do this. You're not going back. You're not. You'll stay here. I mean it." His voice was shaky. Sherlock had never really been around violence like this. While he and his family's life choices may be morally questionable at times, this kind of thing had never been a part of their lives. He cleared his throat. "It wouldn't hurt to go to hospital, but I don't think anything's broken or needs stitches. But getting hit in the face is never good, John. Do you want to go? I'll go with you."

John shook his head, leaning forward against Sherlock. "I don't want to answer questions," he mumbled.

"Okay," Sherlock said. He slid his arms around John and they stood together for a few minutes. "Let's get you on the bed." He walked John into his room. "Actually, change your clothes first. They're bloody. Did you bring your pajamas or do you want to borrow a pair of mine?" He threw a clean pair on the bed. "I'll be right back." He nipped down to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water, some biscuits and a bag of frozen peas. He stopped in the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen. When he came back, he set everything on the desk. He handed John the peas and said, "Put this wherever it hurts most but take a few of these first." He handed him the pills and a bottle of water.

"I have clothes," John said, as he bent over his bag and dug out pajamas, changing slowly before taking the pills from Sherlock. "I don't -- can we skip school tomorrow?"

"Obviously. We need to make sure you're okay. And if you really don't want to answer questions, you're probably going to need to stay inside for a few days. Here lie back," Sherlock moved to the bed and put some pillows behind John's back. "Don't lie flat. I don't think you should go to sleep right away. I remember something about concussions and not going to sleep so just lean back but stay sitting up." He rested his hand on John's leg.

John sniffled and nodded. He covered Sherlock's hand. "I love you," he murmured. "I told him that. I love you." He leaned to the side to rest on Sherlock's shoulder.

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock said softly. "This is breaking my heart because I love you. But you're safe now. You're safe here with me." He slid his arm around John.

John started crying again, a lot softer than before. "She brought him to her house and . . . and got caught so she . . .she told," he stuttered through his tears.

"It's okay, John," Sherlock said stroking his hair. "It's okay. She probably didn't know the consequences. Or maybe her dad's horrible as well. It's okay. It's over now. We're going to be all right."

John nodded, pressing the peas to his face. "I'm s-sorry," he murmured. "We had such a good d-date."

"It was a good date. A good first date. But our second date will be even better. And our third date even better," Sherlock leaned over and kissed John's head. Then they heard noise downstairs -- a door opening and closing and then voices. "My parents are back," Sherlock said.

John felt a stab of panic. "Will they tell? Or make me leave?" he asked quietly.

"It's going to be fine," Sherlock said calmly. "But we need to tell them that you're here." He stood up and held out his hand for John. They walked downstairs. Sherlock's parents were in the kitchen, unpacking a bag of food.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "This is John," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "He's going to stay here for a while."

Sherlock's parents turned and looked at John. His mother's face looked upset. His father said, "Is he in trouble? Has he broken the law?"

"No," Sherlock said. "Someone else has."

"Have you called the police?" Sherlock's mother asked.

"No, we're not calling the police. I'm looking after him."  
  
Sherlock's parents looked at each other and his mother said, "We can make up the room next to yours then."  
  
Sherlock said, "Tomorrow. He can stay in my room tonight."

No one said anything for a moment.

"We won't be going into college for a few days. How do you tell if a person has a concussion?"

Sherlock's mother came over and turned John's head towards the light. "You poor boy. Did you lose consciousness?"  
  
John shook his head softly.

"We'll see how you are tomorrow, but I think you'll be all right," she said.

"I'm looking after him," Sherlock said.

"I can see you are," his mum said.

"Good night then," Sherlock said. "I hope you had a nice time at the cottage."

He pulled John's hand, leading him back upstairs. 

John started crying again because Sherlock had parents and they were nice and gentle and she'd called him 'poor boy' and would check on him in the morning and take care of him. How would he ever thank them?

Back in his room, Sherlock hugged John again softly. "Do you want a shower or anything before we go to bed?" He turned and slipped off his clothes and into his pajamas. "Do you want me to get some more ice?" he asked as he moved to pull down the duvet on the bed.

John shook his head as he climbed in, curling close to Sherlock and laying his head on his chest, holding him tightly. "I don't want to sleep in the other room," he mumbled through his crying.

Sherlock squeezed him. "We're both sleeping right here. We're safe together. I'll stay awake until you fall asleep. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you're in pain, wake me up. If you need me, just wake me up. Promise, John?"

John nodded, tilting his head up and kissing Sherlock's jaw. How did he get so lucky to have him? "Thank you," he whispered, staring to cry again, now only silent tears. Everything would be better in the morning. It had to be.

"That's what friends do. What boyfriends do. Even I know that, John, and I know nothing about these things." He just kept stroking John's hair and back. Sherlock closed his eyes for a minute. God, how did this happen? Of course, Sherlock knew but he still couldn't believe it. He had wanted John to stay the night, but not like this. He opened his eyes again. "I will always be here for you, John."

John scooted up and buried his face into Sherlock's neck, trying to get impossibly closer. He didn't know if this was uncomfortable for Sherlock, but he hoped not. He was so comforting and warm and . . . safe. Despite this terrible path he was glad he was here for good.

"Tomorrow we'll figure some things out. You should have your own space. We'll figure it all out. Don't worry," Sherlock said softly. "Do you think you'll be able to go to sleep soon?"

"I'll try," John said quietly, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind. He knew he was going to have nightmares. He was easily prone and after tonight . . . He was weary and it took him a long time to fall asleep. It seemed like seconds later he saw his dad bursting through the door, beating him again for finding him in Sherlock's bed. He whimpered and tried to run but he was sluggish, stuck. Then his father started on Sherlock and John shouted, sitting up and gasping.

Sherlock sat up, confused for a second, before realising what was happening. "John," he said, trying to keep his voice soft and calm, "you're okay. It's just me. No one's here but me." He wasn't certain what to do so he just rest his hand on John's back. "Take deep breaths, it's okay."

John did as Sherlock asked, focused on his breathing and Sherlock's gentle hand and he quickly calmed down. "Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his face hard.

"Don't apologise. Whatever happens, it's okay, I'm glad you're here because it means you're safe," Sherlock said. "Do you want me to turn on the light? Want some water?"

"No, no," John shook his head. "I'll be okay. I have nightmares a lot."

"Okay," Sherlock said. "That's okay. What should we do now? How long does it take to go back to sleep? Should I put on the radio as a distraction? Just tell me, John, and we can do whatever you need. I just want to help."

"We can lay back down," John said quietly, doing just that. "It shouldn't be long. The second time is better." He felt that his face was still swollen, but he wasn't as sore as when he first got there.

"Okay," Sherlock said. He didn't want to hassle John but he wasn't sure if John understood that Sherlock would literally do anything in his power to help. "Please just let me know if you need anything, John. I mean it." He lay back down and tried to slide his arm around John but it was awkward so instead he just grabbed John's hand and stroked his fingers.

"We can do that," John said quietly, referring to being held. He shifted so his head was on Sherlock's chest and his arm was draped over his stomach. "This is all I want."

Sherlock slid his arm around John and petted his head. It was odd to be taking care of someone else, odder still to want to take care of someone else. But that was what he wanted: to do whatever he could to make John feel better, feel safe. "I feel like I should sing you a lullaby," he said lightly, "but I don't really sing. And I don't remember any song's words except for the God Save the Queen, which doesn't really seem appropriate." He smiled even though it was dark; he hoped John could hear the smile even if he couldn't see it.

John hummed softly. "You don't have to do that," he said quietly. "Maybe we can talk -- try to be normal. What were you thinking for our next date?"

"Well," Sherlock said, "I've been checking the little theatre's listings, maybe they'll show something tolerable and we could go see that. Or maybe the zoo. I like going to look at the animals. Did you have any ideas?" 

"The zoo sounds nice," John said, starting to draw randomly on his chest. "Or maybe the park. We can pack food -- I know a picnic sounds lame but that might be nice, too."

"Yeah, we can do that. It would be nice," Sherlock said. "John, do you think your dad will let you get any of your things? I feel bad that all you've got is what's in those bags."

"No." John's finger stopped moving and he closed his eyes. "Unless I sneak in while he's at work."

"Okay," Sherlock said softly. "We'll figure something out. If you need anything, please let me know. Don't worry about asking. I know it's probably weird, but please, John, if I can help, let me."

"I know, Sherlock." His finger started moving lightly again. "I know. You're so good and kind and . . . I don't know what I would be without you. I'm glad you decided to help me with chemistry."

"It's hard to imagine that we didn't know each other that long ago. See how great chemistry is -- it brought us together. When you think about it, it really should be your favourite subject." He leaned forward and kissed the top of John's head.

John chuckled softly.  "I suppose it has to be now," he said quietly. "I wish I had told you I loved you before I told my dad. I wanted you to know first."

"It happened as it needed to, probably. We've both been pretty nervous about things, for different reasons," Sherlock said. "I don't know if I could have said it aloud. But then I saw you hurt and it made me hurt, made me physically hurt, and then I knew that I loved you, that we were connected in a different way than I've ever felt before."

John hugged him tighter. "I don't want you to hurt . . . either of us to hurt."

"We're okay now," Sherlock said, rubbing John's back. "Should we try to sleep now? We can talk more in the morning. Or we don't have to. We can do whatever you want." He paused. "You know, John, this whole 'we can do whatever John wants' thing won't last forever. Don't get too used to it. Pretty soon I'll go back to being selfish Sherlock and you'll be stuck living with that," he pulled John's fingers up to his mouth so John could tell he was smiling and then he kissed John's fingertips softly. 

"I'm not worried. I'm too cute to be worried about not getting my way," John smiled.

"You are definitely cute," Sherlock said, "but I shall probably grow immune to that eventually once I witness you using it for evil rather than good." He was glad they could tease again.

"How could you accuse me of such things?" John teased. "I have half a mind to leave right now."

"Don't," Sherlock said, "don't leave this room. Or I will pout and you do not want to see me pout because I have won gold medals at the pouting Olympics. You will regret making me pout, John, trust me." He kissed John's mouth quickly.

"If I was ever the cause of your pouting I think I'd have to throw myself from the tallest building," he smiled.

"You need to take that back because I intend to pout you into sex. That was going to be my seduction technique. Not very refined, I know, but I hope it will be successful at some point."

"Why don't you flirt and smile? Sex with me will be a happy event, not something to pout about!"

"No, you silly person, I shall pout until I get sex. Then I will be happy. That's how my pouting works, I've been doing it for years. It's quite effective."

"And exactly how much sex has that got you?"

"Granted, I've not used it for that so far, but I'm still relatively confident." Sherlock was glad the lights were out.

"Well, I like a nice smile and a flirty line," John teased. "Or a spontaneous make out session."

"I shall consider this information carefully," Sherlock said. "I don't know what I like. Just you, I guess. Whatever you do, I seem to like."

John failed to stifle a yawn as he settled against Sherlock. "Are you comfortable?"

"I am, it's nicer than just imagining you're here," Sherlock said snuggling into John. "I do love you," he whispered softly into John's ear. "Good night." 

"I love you, too," he mumbled, closing his eyes. He fell asleep again within minutes, his mind quiet.


	11. First Day Living Together

In the morning there was a knock at Sherlock's door. He shook his head awake and quickly remembered what was happening. "Yes?" he asked.

From behind the door, his father said, "Your mother wanted me to ask if your friend was all right."  
  
Sherlock looked at John. "I think so, we'll see when we get up."  
  
Sherlock's father mumbled something and walked away. Sherlock stretched his legs out in the bed and smiled at John.

John vaguely heard voices and started shifting, remembering everything very suddenly and sitting up a bit too quickly. "Oh," he said quietly when he realized where he was. "Are we in trouble?" he asked.

"No," Sherlock said, touching his back. "That was just my parents showing affection. Anyway, how are you feeling? How's your head?"

"Sore," he admitted. "Everything hurts, but not like yesterday. Um . . . how bad is my face?"

"It's cute," Sherlock said, 'but it's still just a little swollen and there are some bruises. It's still cute though, I promise. It looks worlds better today. That nose is definitely not broken."

John touched around his eye and winced lightly.  "Should I put more ice on it?"

"Couldn't hurt," Sherlock said. "Can you wait about ten minutes until they leave? Then we'll go downstairs and I can get you some ice and make you something to eat. I'm dying for a cup of tea."

"Yeah, that's fine," John nodded.

"Anyway, I like waking up with you even if your face isn't right," Sherlock said, wishing he was a bit better at saying sweet things. They heard the door downstairs shut. "Okay, they're probably gone. Wait here a minute, I need the toilet. Listen to hear if there are any more noises downstairs and then we can get up." Sherlock stood up, stretched and then slowly opened the door and walked across the hall to the bathroom.

John got up and stretched, pacing back and forth. He didn't hear anything else but he needed the bathroom as well. He danced around as he waited.

Sherlock snuck back in the room. "Hmm . . . is that how you dance? If so, I don't think we should go out clubbing. I take it you need the toilet. Go and then we'll head down. I think they're gone, but I'll check."

"Shut up," John laughed, closing himself in the bathroom. His face was worse than he thought. He used the bathroom and then splashed water on his face.

Sherlock headed downstairs and called out, but no one was there. He nipped down quickly and turned on the kettle and went back up to wait for John.

"Where's the ibuprofen?" John asked through the door. 

"It's here," Sherlock said. John came out and took a few more before they headed downstairs. Sherlock made them both cups of tea and then asked, "What shall I make us to eat? Basically we've got eggs, bacon, bread and beans. Any combination of those sound good?"

"Everything but the beans," John smiled.

"Fine, I'm going to make them anyway as I like them with the eggs. Do you want your eggs fried, scrambled or something else?" Sherlock busied himself getting things ready. He actually kind of enjoyed looking after John like this. He wondered why but decided not to over think it. He grabbed a bag of frozen peas and handed it to John. "Here, put this on your face while I cook." He smiled. "Listen, has your dad rung? Are you going to try to phone him?"

"No. I'm not going to call him," John said, covering his face with the peas.

"Okay, that's fair," Sherlock said. He would not hassle John about anything related to his father; John obviously knew this situation better than Sherlock ever could. "What are we going to do today? You should probably take it easy, and I should probably also take it easy -- to support you, obviously."

"Obviously," John smiled.  "I don't feel like going anywhere."

"Well, have a look at the cupboards to see what food we have and if there's something else you want or if there's a treat you want me to get you, I'll nip out and buy it. We don't have any mint ice cream, I'm afraid. You can pick a film and we'll watch that and then if we want to watch another, I'll pick one. Or we could play a game. Or we could study. That pretty much exhausts all the ideas I have," Sherlock said and then for some reason, he felt a bit embarrassed. "I just want to make today nice for you. I'm sorry if I'm being stupid."

"You're not being stupid at all," John smiled. "Let's watch movies -- I want to know what kind you like if you don't like horror movies."

"Okay, but don't mock me," Sherlock said. They finished eating and Sherlock tidied up. He grabbed some water and they went back upstairs. Sherlock made John get comfortable in bed and then sorted out the film. "Okay this is kind of a weird film, but not weird like the hallucination video. It's about a stunt man from the olden days who tells a story that comes to life. Well, it's better than that plus it's got a little gore so maybe you'll like it. Let's just watch it and you can hate it afterwards," Sherlock snuggled in next to John.

John snuggled against him. "I'm sure it's going to be great," he said.

Sherlock said, "I should've bought us some popcorn."

"That's okay, this is great," John said. He hated what had led to this, but he was glad he didn't have to wait until university to be with Sherlock this way. As they watched the movie John felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It wasn't his father because it was one short sound. A text. But Sherlock was here and no one else texted him. He pulled it out to see and frowned when he saw Mary's name, tossing it on the bed beside him.

"Is it him? You should check it," Sherlock said, immediately feeling anxious.

"It's not him," John said, planning on leaving it at that. But he couldn't. Sherlock had done so much for him and honestly, if he couldn't talk to Sherlock what did he have left? "It's Mary," he added. 

"You should still check it," Sherlock said. "At least we'll know she's okay, that nothing bad happened to her. If she says something horrible, you can just delete and be done with it. Nothing can get worse, can it?"

John hesitated. Was he mad at her for telling? He thought he was until Sherlock was being so calm about it. Didn't he blame her? He reached for his phone again and opened the message. "It's an apology. She wants to meet in person so she can explain."

Sherlock said nothing for a minute. Then he said, "It's good she realised she did the wrong thing. Did you tell her about your dad? Do you want to meet her?"

"I didn't tell her, not the whole story. Obviously she guessed that he would be upset but I didn't tell her." John thought about his second question for a long time. "What could she possibly say to me?" 

"Maybe she'd just rather say it in person. You're not supposed to say big stuff like sorry or let's get married or I'm pregnant via text. Maybe she just wants to be sure you understand why she had to tell," Sherlock said. He wasn't sure how he felt about John meeting her. In many ways, he'd be happy just being done with the whole stupid plan, including this girl. But it had nothing to do with him really: John should decide. "You should do whatever you want to do. It's up to you."

"She told to get the blame thrown off of her," John said, but he had no idea if that was true or not. "I don't want to think about it right now." _Or ever_ , he thought to himself. _Why couldn't she leave it alone?_

"Hmmm, that's kind of shitty, I guess, unless her dad's like yours. You're right anyway, you don't have to do anything right now. You're supposed to be resting anyway. Do you want to lie down again and go back to the movie or are you too distracted?"

"We can go back to the movie," John nodded, lying down beside him again. 

Sherlock pulled John to him. He pushed play again. "I wish we could live our whole lives like this. Which probably isn't true, I appreciate. I'd begin hating this movie after a few months. But I wish we could live the foreseeable future like this." He fiddled a little with John's hair.

John liked when Sherlock played lightly like that -- on his back, his arm, especially his hair. He couldn't explain it, but it made him feel very good. "I'm going to make this up to you -- repay you one day," he murmured.

"Shut your face," Sherlock said, teasingly. He slid his hand around John's head to his face and put his hand over his mouth. "No more talk like that. I am trying to watch this movie, and your gibberish is disturbing me."

"I will," he mumbled and then kissed Sherlock's hand.

They finished the movie without any more talking. Then Sherlock said, "Lie back and let me look more closely at your face to make sure everything's okay." He looked at John's bruises. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he said quietly. Then he gave John a quick kiss on the mouth and said, "Okay, let's move your stuff into your room." 

John gazed up at Sherlock's face, waiting for the inspection to be over. Then he sat up and sighed. "I suppose I can't stay in here when we live with your parents," he smiled.

"That's not it," Sherlock said. "You should have your own space. You can't live out of a bag. Then you wouldn't be living here, would you, you'd be crashing here and that's not the same. You need a space for your clothes and for your school books and to study and whatever. You can probably still sleep in here but what if one of us gets poorly or wants to go to bed early or we have an argument or if we just want privacy for some reason. If you were just staying here, those things would be difficult. But you live here now so you need a room to be your own."

John bit his lip, not having thought about it like that. He lived here now. Because he couldn't go home. "You're right, of course," he nodded. He got up and grabbed his bags. "Lead the way," he smiled softly.

Sherlock stepped out of the room. "You've got two choices really," he said, opening the two doors next to his. "Basically this side of the house is empty except for me. This one has its own bathroom but there's no shower or anything and this one, well, it's just a room, isn't it? They're both just rooms, but maybe lie on the beds and see which one you like best. This one has a better desk, I guess. I don't know, just pick whichever one you want."

"This one is good," John said, motioning to the first one with the bathroom and the good desk. "I . . . thank you."

"Let's hang up your stuff and put what you've got away." They started to unpack John's bags. "Hold on," Sherlock said and left, coming back with some pens and paper. "Here's some for the desk. Please tell me when you realise you need something you don't have. I can tell you feel funny when I say I'll buy stuff for you, but it might be something we already have anyway." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen and set it on the desk. "There should be soap and toothpaste in the bathroom, but we can get towels and sheets so everything's nice and clean."

"Okay," John agreed, knowing he wouldn't say anything unless he really, really needed it. "I guess I should start looking for a better job now," he added as he started to hang his clothes up. 

"Probably," Sherlock said. "It won't be too bad though since you don't have rugby for a while. You'll have time. Plus you live with your tutor so that'll help." He smiled at John, wishing he could make everything okay but knowing he couldn't. Sherlock lay down on the bed. "I wondered if I'd ever be able to be on your bed and now I am. That's good, isn't it?" 

"If we end up sneaking in you can see the real thing," John turned to him and smiled.

"John, we don't have to sneak," Sherlock said, sitting up. "That's one advantage of having parents that don't give care in the slightest -- we can pretty much do what we want as long as their lives aren't disrupted in any way. No more sneaking -- that part of your life is over now." Sherlock laid back down. "Come lie by me for a minute."

"I meant my room, at my house . . . if we go for my things," John said as he lay down and turned on his side to face Sherlock.

"Oh, sorry," Sherlock said. "Do you think we should both go? It seems like that could be worse. But I would rather be there, not just to see your room, but just in case he shows up. Maybe he wouldn't do anything if someone else was there. I wish I looked more intimidating." He put one hand on John's hip.

"No. We'll go while he's at work, that will give us eight hours," John said. He reached out and placed his hand on Sherlock's cheek, stroking lightly with his thumb.

"Good then. Are we going today? Are you sure you don't want to contact him?" Talking about John's father was making Sherlock feel tense, so he took a big breath and tried to relax. He pulled John closer to him and snuggled into John's chest.

"Not today because it's already the middle of the day. Tomorrow if you don't mind skipping again," John said. "And I don't want to talk to him. I have nothing to say and I'm not going to tell him that I'm going to the house."

"Okay, I trust that you know best," Sherlock said into John's chest. Then he lifted his head and kissed John's mouth softly. "Is your face too sore? I want to kiss you more but I don't want to hurt you."

"I just don't know what to say to him . . . he'll be screaming or he might not even answer and I don't want to think about it," he mumbled. The truth was that he had a little fantasy in his head that his dad was sorry, that he regretted shouting at John, that he wanted John to come home. "Only my eye is a little sore. Please kiss me," he smiled softly.

Sherlock leaned in and gave John a soft kiss on the mouth, holding it for a long time. He gripped on to John's hip. When he moved away, he kissed John's neck softly and slid his hand around to the small of John's back.

John hummed softly and turned his head towards Sherlock's, taking a long breath and just breathing him in. Whatever had happened it had been worth it. Not just for the kissing -- just sitting in the same room as Sherlock made him feel good, happy.

"I'm glad you are here," Sherlock said. He kissed him again, a little harder like he wanted to prove how happy he was that John was here and safe.

"I'm just glad for you," John said against his lips before properly kissing him back.

"John, I'm getting excited and I don't know if I should be," Sherlock said, kind of embarrassed. "It feels like a hard-on isn't appropriate at this moment, but I'm getting one anyway." He pulled back a little.

"Completely understandable, the way we're kissing," John said, feeling himself starting to get hard as well. His body didn't care for all the trauma, but he was safe and happy. Sherlock had done all that he could to make John comfortable, so there was nothing wrong with this at all. "I am too," he admitted. 

"Should we keep kissing or should we stop?" He snuck in a few more kisses on John's neck, just in case they were going to stop.

"I'd like to keep kissing," he murmured, smiling at his quick kisses.

"Good, me too," Sherlock shifted slightly. moving even closer to John. He let his tongue slip into John's mouth and pressed his hand into John's back. He twisted his legs with John's.

"This is some kind of kissing," John smiled, shifting closer as the kiss deepened. 

"I'm getting better at it, I think," Sherlock smiled. "But I probably need much more practice." He lifted his hands to John's head and turned it slightly, pressing harder against his mouth.

John hummed as he pressed back, lacing his fingers in Sherlock's hair. He remembered Sherlock had liked that. Then he remembered his promise. "I'm supposed to be finding your spot," he murmured against Sherlock's lips. 

"Who is stopping you?" Sherlock said, enjoying John's touch. "The hair might be it though, I so like that," he dipped his head slightly, "I'm really hard now."

John pushed him slightly back and climbed on top of him. "Let's try here," he murmured, kissing behind Sherlock's ear. He breathed hotly as he moved lower, nibbling on his lobe, kissing the depression behind it where his jaw started, waiting for a response.  

Sherlock made a small moan. "John, that is good, but you do realise it's probably in my best interest not to give too much away because I think I'm going to really like your trying to find it. So keep going and try somewhere else," he said, probably a little too eagerly.

"Maybe you have more than one. I do," John said between kisses, moving down his neck.

"Hey, you said it was your neck. Where else? Don't stop though, you can talk while you're kissing," Sherlock turned his head to let John more easily reach his neck. "I like this as well, by the way." 

John smiled and nipped his neck lightly. "I'm not telling . . ." he said, moving into the nape of his neck and sucking softly. 

"Deal, but don't stop doing me right now, I promise. . .I promise I'll do you but don't stop doing this, John, it feels good," Sherlock shifted his body a little, trying to press a bit against John. He was very hard, and he felt like his whole body wanted touching.

John grinned and sucked harder until a small red spot appeared. "I won't stop," John sat up and pulled Sherlock's shirt off.

"John," Sherlock said, his breath speeding up. He moved his hand to John's arm and squeezed it. He wanted to say more words, to thank John or at least try to express how many things were going on in his head, in his body, but he couldn't say anything.

John hummed, flicking his nipple with his tongue before sucking gently. 

"That tickles," Sherlock said squirming a little. His hand snuck into John's hair.

John smiled and continued down, kissing down his stomach. 

Sherlock remembered the last time John's mouth had been so low on his body and he wondered if John was going to do that again. Even though he was kind of cold, he wanted to take off his trousers, he wanted them both to take off their clothes and be naked together. He tried hard to patient.

John dipped his tongue into Sherlock's navel before unbuttoning his trousers, glancing up at him, smiling wide. 

"John," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry. I'd feel better if we went into my room. I know no one's going to come home, but I'd just feel better. Please," he sat himself up and pulled John's arm. He moved them quickly into his room, shut and locked the door. "Thank you, I'm sorry," he said and pulled John onto his bed with him. He kissed John's mouth and then said, "You can go back to what you were doing now" and made a smile that was half shy and half cheeky.

John climbed up onto the bed and tugged at his trousers. "Very demanding, aren't you?" he grinned, palming Sherlock through his pants. 

"Oh," Sherlock exhaled when John touched him -- it was still new and so good. "I just don't want to be distracted. John, I like when you touch me. Are you going to take your clothes off too? I want you to."

"It's not my turn," he grinned, pulling Sherlock's pants off and leaning down again, starting his kisses at Sherlock's navel and moving downwards. 

Sherlock felt exposed, but he tried to relax. This was John -- John who made him feel comfortable being himself, John with whom he'd been through so much. He breathed in and out and closed his eyes. He felt John's mouth on his belly and then lower, and his cock ached. He was pretty sure John would touch it, so he tried to just stay with what was happening right now and enjoy the anticipation, even though it was a struggle.

John licked his shaft, right up to the head before sucking Sherlock into his mouth. He hummed softly as he moved, trying to get used to having Sherlock properly in his mouth, taking a little bit more each time he moved down. 

Sherlock's body lifted up off the bed a little when John put his mouth on him. It was almost too much. He wondered if he would ever get used to it -- he knew, of course, that he would -- but the feeling was almost overwhelmingly good. He let out a soft moan and lifted his hand over his head. "Oh John," he said softly, "that feels good."

John thought back to the videos he'd seen. He licked the tip when he came up, sliding his lips along the shaft before taking Sherlock into his mouth again, stroking what he couldn't fit. 

Sherlock looked down at John, but seeing it made it even more intense. "John," he said softly. "I feel like I'm going to burst. I might come if you keep doing that." He lay back down and put one of his hands over his eyes.

"Do you want to?" John mumbled between sucking the head, his hand moving steadily. "Do you want to come in my mouth?" He knew the words would make him flush later, but at the moment he was consumed with lust and couldn't help it. 

"We can try it," Sherlock said. To be honest, Sherlock just wanted to come, he didn't really care where or how. "But only if you want to. If you want to just use your hand, that'd be good too. You always make me feel so good."

 _Well, there's a first time for everything,_ John thought to himself. He smiled up at Sherlock and swallowed him down again, hollowing his cheeks as he stroked a bit faster. 

Sherlock focused on his breathing, but John's mouth on his cock was making his whole body hot and tense. He looked down for just a second and saw John's mouth and hands and said, "John, I'm going to" and his body started to jerk and he came hard, his hands gripping the duvet.

John had been expecting it, but he wasn't ready. He didn't want to swallow -- not the first time anyways -- but it went down his throat anyways. He coughed once, spilling some onto his chin before he steadied himself and caught it all in mouth. When he pulled away, he pulled off his shirt and spit into it, not knowing what else to do. He wiped his mouth and caught his breath, smiling at Sherlock who was panting above him. 

"John," Sherlock gasped. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. Was it gross? Are you okay? I'm sorry." He looked at John's face and laughed a little. "There's still some on you," he said. He grabbed John's shirt and wiped the rest away. "Sorry," he said. "Are you okay? Seriously, was it okay?"

John nodded. "I'm fine. It wasn't as bad as I expected. When I realised I didn't want to swallow, I panicked a bit because I didn't know what else to do, but it'll be better next time. I'll do it next time," he smiled. 

"It doesn't matter to me but I am happy to provide you with ample practice," Sherlock said. He suddenly felt very self-conscious, being there naked with John fully clothed. He pulled the duvet to cover himself a little. John had now seen him naked, hard and soft. "Take your clothes off now," he said.

John tugged the covers away and crawled over Sherlock. "After all that, you're going to make me do more work?" he teased, kissing Sherlock to show that he was kidding. 

"Just get a move on, mister," Sherlock said, smiling. Sherlock pushed John flat on the bed and started to tug on John's jeans. He sat between John's legs and began rubbing them up and down. "You're really quite strong," Sherlock said. "Your muscles are much bigger than mine."

"It's the rugby," John said, lifting his hips for Sherlock. He squirmed as Sherlock rubbed his thighs. 

"Don't show off," Sherlock said, pinching one of John's thighs lightly. He leaned over and pulled a bag out of his bottom drawer. "Here, let's try this." He pulled out the bottle of lube and spilt some into his hands. He rubbed them together to warm it up and then leaned over and stroked John. "See? Not sticky at all. Does it feel nice?"

John jerked to the side and grinned at Sherlock. "Don't pinch me!" he said as he watched him curiously. He bit his lip as he watched, moaning when Sherlock touched him. His hand moved so easily. "Feels good," he nodded. 

Sherlock moved his hand up and down John's cock and then swiped it over the tip like John liked. With his other hand, he softly rubbed between John's legs, holding his balls. "Is this okay?" he said quietly.

"Yes," John breathed heavily. "So good . . ." He writhed lightly, biting his lip as he gazed at Sherlock. 

"What about . . . if I tried a finger?" Sherlock said tentatively. He was a bit nervous -- he wanted John to say yes so he could do it, but if John said no, at least he wouldn't have to worry about doing it wrong. He kept stroking John with one hand and rubbing his balls and thighs with the other.

"I-oh," John propped himself up on his elbows, not having expected that yet. "Um, yes, that's fine," he nodded. 

"Should I?" Sherlock said. "You tried something new so I thought I would. I don't have to. But I've seen the videos, I feel like I know what to do." He knew he knew logically but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous. "But only if you want me to."

John laid back down and nodded. "Yes, it's okay," he assured Sherlock. 

"Say if you change your mind, it doesn't matter," Sherlock said quietly. He leaned over and kissed John's stomach softly. He moved his face lower, dragging his hair across John's skin. He moved his face past John's cock, letting it touch his cheek as he kept stroking. Then he sat back up and moved his hand in between John's legs, stroking the skin. He let his finger hover over John's hole before just touching it softly. John's body reacted with a little movement. "Still okay?"

"Mmhm," John hummed softly, pulling his knees up a bit. His breathing was shallow and a bit fast, but he kept reminding himself that this was Sherlock and that he trusted Sherlock completely. 

Sherlock did his best to keep his hand moving on John's cock as he moved his finger slowly into John. He moved it as slowly as humanly possible. It was tight around Sherlock's finger. "Relax if you can," he said softly. He kept pushing until it was about half way in. "Does it hurt?"

"Feels weird . . ." John admitted. It wasn't big enough to hurt but it definitely felt odd. "Not bad weird, though," he added. He willed himself to relax around Sherlock's finger.  

"Should I keep going? I'm only about halfway."

John nodded. "I'm okay," he breathed. 

Sherlock slowly pushed the rest of the way in. "I'm going to move it," Sherlock said softly. He started moving his finger back and then pushed in again. Then he stopped and concentrated again on John's cock, leaving his finger inside. "Think about this now," he said as he stroked firmly up and down John's shaft, moving occasionally over the tip. "Move your hips," he said, "I want to make you come, but tell me before you do."

John thrust his hips gently, panting as the heat built in his stomach. And that finger . . . it moved more easily and it felt so much better. "Sherlock, I'm close," John panted, moving a bit harder. 

Sherlock kept stroking but he started moving his finger again, curling it slightly. "John, you're so sexy, I'm getting hard again. I love watching you."

"I'm going to . . . Sherlock, please," John moaned, bucking harder now.

Sherlock pressed his finger into John, putting pressure on the place where he thought John's prostate would be. He bent down over John's cock and licked the tip. "I'm going to taste it," he said. "Do it."

John called out and bucked up hard, gripping the sheet as he came. He moaned Sherlock's name as the waves coursed through him. 

Sherlock moved his face away instinctively as John came, but then moved back and licked some of the come. He tried to take out his finger as slowly as he could and then crawled over John, lying down next to him. "Was it okay?" he asked, snuggling against him.

John nodded, catching his breath slowly. "What did you think?" he asked quietly. 

"It felt very private, like something I'd never do to anyone else, though it's still not given me much of an idea what sex will feel like," Sherlock said. "And when I tasted it, it tasted like, I don't know, kind of nothing. Or at least nothing I've tasted before," he said smiling.

John nodded. "I would never do that for anyone else, either. Your finger . . . when I started getting that build-up I could hardly feel it anymore and right near the end I wanted to ask for more," he admitted. 

"Well, that's a good sign, I guess," Sherlock said. It was hard talking about this, but he was glad they could. "It must mean you'd be okay doing it." He leaned over and kissed John quickly. "It's weird still a little. Not what we do, just that we're doing anything at all. I mean, that I am doing it, with someone else. I'm happy I am. With you."

"I'm happy we are, too. We can learn together," he smiled. "There's no rush, okay?"

"I know," Sherlock said, "Sometimes I just want more because I've done so little. I hope you didn't feel like I was rushing you."

"Not at all," John assured him. "I was just saying." He turned on his side and brought himself face to face with Sherlock, simply looking at him.

"Good," Sherlock said. He looked over at John. "Yes, your face definitely looks better today. You're handsome." He kissed John quickly and smiled at him.

"You are," John murmured. "You are so much more." John's eyes moved over his face, taking it all in. His eyes were such a vivid color, changing with the light, and his sharp features and his curls fell just right. John reached out a pushed them away from his face, chuckling when they fell right back in place. 

"So you say," Sherlock said. He snuggled into John. "We should make up your bed and stuff, but let's rest for a few minutes. I like having you here. It's nicer to nap with you than on my own."

"Well, I'm always right. You should know that," John smiled. "I am pretty tired as well."

They slept for a little while. When Sherlock woke up, he looked at the clock and slipped out of the bed to get clean sheets and towels. He made up John's bed and then went down to make tea. He brought up two cups and sat on the bed next to John. "Hey you," he said softly, "you should wake up. I'm going to go take a shower but you should go in after me." He gave him a kiss and then went to shower.

John woke up to the sound of his voice but by the time he was properly up Sherlock was already gone. John stretched and sat up, sipping at his tea as he waited for Sherlock to get out. He eventually ventured into his room and smiled when he saw that Sherlock had fixed it for him. 

Sherlock got dressed in the bathroom. He looked at his face in the mirror, but it didn't seem very handsome to him. He wondered if he looked different to how he looked two weeks ago. Did his parents see a difference? Could they tell that he had done the things he'd done, that he loved someone now? He doubted it; even if he did look different, it's unlikely they'd have noticed. He came out and saw that John was in his room. "Is it okay? We can change anything you want. When I see your room at your house, we can try to make it more like that."

"It's great," John smiled. "Really, Sherlock, thank you."

"You're welcome, John," Sherlock said sincerely. "Look, I think I'm going to do some school work now. I don't care about skipping classes, but I try to always do the work. You can watch some telly -- the remote should be in that drawer -- or if you also want to work, we could down to the dining room table because there's not enough room at my desk for two. It's up to you. Actually, if you're going to be living here, John, you can do whatever you want, you don't have to tell me first."

"I'm going to shower first and then I will do homework with you. I don't want to fall behind," he said. He went into his room and found new clothes before looking back to Sherlock. "Where do I go?"

"The hallway bathroom. There's extra towels in there. Let me know if you don't like the soap or shampoo or whatever," Sherlock said. He knew that soon he'd have to stop offering new things twenty four hours a day. He'd have to start acting like it was normal that John was here. But it wasn't normal yet -- it was hardly normal that he had a friend let alone a boyfriend let alone one who lived with him. It would just have to come eventually.

"I'm sure it's fine," John smiled. He took his things into the bathroom and undressed, discovering a few fading bruises. He stepped into the shower and took his time, relaxing in the warm water.

Sherlock moved his laptop downstairs onto the dining room table. He thought about working on his blog, but decided not to just yet -- he'd tell John about it eventually but not today. He went back up and brought down some books. He went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He put some biscuits on a plate. Then he flipped through the papers as he waited for John to come down.

When John was finally finished he grabbed his books and headed downstairs, seeing Sherlock on his computer at the table. "Are you going to write about me in your blog?" he teased, sitting down and the table with him. 

Sherlock felt a mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness, because of others' previous reactions. However, he also was curious and maybe hopeful -- had John read it? Liked it? "How do you know about my blog?" he asked.

"I looked you up on the Internet when we first started talking. I would read it when I missed you," he admitted quietly.

"How come you never said anything?" Sherlock asked. He felt he still didn't have enough information to deduce John's opinion.

"Slipped my mind, I guess. I only looked at it twice," he said. "Are you mad?"

"No, of course not," Sherlock said. "There's nothing to be mad about it. It's not private, obviously. Did you find it interesting?"

John nodded. "Very educational," he smiled. 

"I know you probably think it's boring, it's okay if you do. I guess I only set it up to be able to tell someone about the experiments I do and problems I figure out. I thought it'd be a way to get some attention, I guess. I sometimes do get hits, but I suppose it didn't really bring me what I'd hoped for."

"I don't think it's boring," John said.

"Anyway," Sherlock said, opening up one of his books. "I haven't been writing much recently and no, I won't be writing about you. Was your shower okay?"

"Yes," John nodded. "Everything was great." He pulled out his books and laid everything out. "I suppose we should actually go back soon. Maybe the day after tomorrow?"

"That sounds reasonable," Sherlock said. He slid a piece of paper over to John. "Here's what they've been doing in chemistry class -- I've tried to make some notes that might help you."

"Thanks," John smiled, taking the paper and looking it over. After a few minutes, he got out a fresh sheet of paper and started to rewrite it. "It helps me remember," he explained when he saw Sherlock watching. 

"I think it's an excellent strategy," Sherlock said. "I can quiz you later if you want. For each one you get right, I'll give you one kiss. For each one you get wrong, you give me one. That's my new payment policy as your chemistry tutor." He smiled and kicked John softly under the table.

"Well, it'd be a bit rude if I paid you now," John smiled.

"Outrageous! You're saying my tutoring no longer has monetary value to you just because I'm your boyfriend? That's hurtful!"

"I'm saying that now that we're having sex it might be a bit awkward if I paid you!" John laughed.

"Hmmm, I don't think I agree. We can clearly maintain two separate relationships: professional and personal. I'll give you my bill once you pass chemistry, you'll see that the only charges on there will be for tutoring. The sex stuff will be free," Sherlock said smiling. "Hold on, is this whole conversation just an excuse for you to not work? You're terrible. Get to work and stop trying to distract me by talking about sex!"

"You started it with all your talk about kisses for payment!" John laughed, pulling his books dramatically towards himself and copying his notes frantically.

Sherlock got up and walked behind John. He leaned his head on top of John's and said, "Keep working." Then he gave John a kiss on the ear and said, "I'm glad you're here," before sitting back to down to his own work.

John looked over at him and smiled, silently going back to his homework. They worked quietly for a while -- John paused chemistry to finish up some subjects he was better at before going back to it, actually starting the homework now that his notes were done.

When Sherlock finished his own work, he looked over at John who was still concentrating. He didn't want to distract him so he found the newspaper online and completed the crosswords. He occasionally glanced at John and came to the conclusion that he was the cutest person he'd ever met.

John was very aware of Sherlock watching him, and it made him nervous. He started forgetting things, closing his eyes to remember. "I'm going as fast as I can," he said, flipping through pages in his book.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "I wasn't looking at you to hurry you, I promise. I was looking at you because . . . you're cute and I like looking at you. Sorry, it sounds stupid but it's the truth." He looked at the clock. "We've got about an hour before my parents should be getting home. Keep working, I'll go get a book to read." He stood up and retrieved the novel he had started weeks ago but then had forgotten about. He sat back down at the table and started to read. Without turning his head, he said, "I promise I won't look at you until you're done" and he lifted the book up to cover his smiling face.

John kicked him under the table and went back to his work, smiling softly to himself. Half hour later he was finally done. "Will you check it, please?" he asked, sliding his book over.

Sherlock looked over John's work. He spotted one issue and did his best to explain. Then he quizzed John on the work. "You're getting pretty good, John," Sherlock said honestly. "Seriously, your tutor must be incredible." He stuck his tongue out at John.

"Not with promises though," John teased. "I believe he owes me . . ." he looked over to see how many he'd got right. ". . . 14 kisses."

Sherlock pulled John's chair out and sat on his lap, straddling him. He leaned over and gave John four quick kisses on each ear and then on his nose. Then he gave John a long kiss on the mouth and an even longer one on his neck. Then he sat up and said, "I always honour my promises."

John's stomach flipped as he rest his hands on Sherlock's hips, thrilled by the fact that they could be caught at any moment.

Sherlock started packing up his work. "Let's make our dinner. We don't have to eat now but let's get it made." He walked into the kitchen. "Would sandwiches be okay?"

John followed Sherlock into the kitchen. "Yes, sandwiches will be fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Cut the bread. I'll make them and we can eat them whenever you want. I tend to stay in my room most evenings. What do you usually watch on the telly? We can watch whatever you normally watch or play a game or whatever." He started to make the sandwiches.

"I don't watch anything," John said. "I usually read or go on the computer." He realised as he said it that all of those things were at his house still. Would they be? He wondered if his dad would have packed it all up and burned it or something. He needed to get it quick. "What do you normally do?"

"Read or go online or listen to the radio or . . . wank, but only since I met you," he said, grinning. "I do like to take a bath before bed. I sometimes work in the shed if it's not too cold -- I don't have a heater out there. God, we're kind of boring, John. Are these the kinds of things the lads on your rugby team do? I guess I always assumed they were having more fun, probably stupid, immature fun, but definitely more fun."

"They are probably out drinking and trying to bring girls home," John said. "And we are a bit boring. I guess we could go out too, but I don't fancy going to a pub."

"I don't mess about trying to bring girls home. I pick a boy and then move him straight in," Sherlock said. "Do you want these now or should we just go upstairs?" 

"I'll have one now," John said. "I've never been good at finding things to do . . .that's why I used to just follow them around. When I got tired of it, I just stopped going," he explained. 

Sherlock tipped some crisps on to John's plate. "I've never really had friends to hang out with. I'm sure we can find some stuff to do." They ate their sandwiches and then went upstairs. "I like listening to the news, do you care?" he asked, turning on the radio. "Afterwards, we can make a plan for tomorrow."

"I don't mind," John said, looking at the radio as it came on. After a few minutes he looked down at his plate. "Do you think I should meet up with Mary?"

Sherlock sat quietly for a minute. "John, I really don't know. I guess I would say before you decide, you should think about what you expect from it or what could be the best outcome. If you can't think of a good outcome, then I'd probably say don't bother. But if you'd feel better knowing the whole story or if you think you want to be friends with her, then I suppose it can't hurt." 

"I want . . . I want to yell at her. I'm angry because it's all her fault that this happened to me," he mumbled. "But then again, it freed me and now I can be with you and not worry or hide . . . I don't know."

"Well, first of all, you probably shouldn't meet with her until you're not quite so angry. It won't change anything to yell at her and you'll probably just regret it later. And as far as what came of it, well, first of all, you'd have to explain the whole thing -- are you sure you want to do that? Plus, what are you going to say, 'Thanks for ratting on me because my dad beat me up and kicked me up and now I can at least live with my boyfriend?' Maybe you need to think a bit more about it." He leaned over and touched John gently, "But I will support whatever decision you make."

John nodded. "I want to yell at my dad. I want to hit him," John mumbled. 

"It's okay to feel like that. But that wouldn't do anyone any good even if you could. But you could pretend if you want. My dad might even have a punching bag you could hit if you really feel the need."

"But doing that -- would it make me as bad as him?" John asked quietly. 

"Only if you really hit him. Actually not even then really. Everyone gets furious, and you, unlike him, have actually been wronged, but being violent is rarely helpful. Some people think it's beneficial to punch a pillow or something if you think it'd release the anger. Punching a bag isn't the same as punching a person."

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, sitting to face him. "Let's . . . put a movie on or something. I don't want to think about it." He was confused, didn't know what he wanted. He'd worry about it later. 

"Well, wait, because I have a question kind of related to this topic so we might as well get it over with. Have you contacted your sister? You should probably just let her know you're okay," Sherlock said softly.

"And tell her what? That I'm gay too and dad almost killed me?" As he said it he realised it was a perfectly fine thing to tell her, might even bring them closer. But he was mad at her for leaving him in that mess -- wasn't he? "I don't know."

"It's not my business," Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice calm, "but yeah, I guess that's exactly what I was thinking you'd tell her. What could it hurt? I know I'm not one to talk about siblings, but your sister is really the only one who can come closest to understanding."

John looked up at Sherlock's eyes, watching him for a long time before nodding. "Tomorrow, after we come home from getting my stuff," he said. 

"Yes, tomorrow, we should talk about that as well," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry but I'd feel better if we had a plan."

"I would, too. He usually leaves the house at eight," John said. 

"Well, let's get up and I'll take you out to breakfast and then we can head over. Then we'll get a cab back and take a nap."

"Okay. Should we bring garbage bags?"

"Depends what we're going to be getting, I guess. I've got some empty suitcases and boxes or we can take bin bags, whatever you think is best."

John bit his lip. "I want my books, and my computer, and my clothes."

"Let's take some boxes as well. A desktop or laptop? Will we have to make multiple trips, do you think?"

"A laptop," John said, shaking his head. "There's isn't much -- just enough," he said, wondering if he should even go back for it. If they were caught he's never forgive himself. 

"We'll get what we can. It'll be okay," Sherlock said, touching John lightly.

"If by some crazy chance he shows up, run, okay? Promise." The chances were slim, but John thought his father wouldn't hesitate to hit Sherlock as well. 

"I won't leave you there so you'd better be running as well."

John nodded. "But if I can't, just leave, okay?"

"I can't promise that, John. If we're going in together, we're coming out together."

John knew there was no convincing him so he nodded. "Okay," he said. 

"We'll be okay. Anything else unpleasant we need to talk about?"

John shook his head. "That's enough, I think."

"Good, stop talking then and get on the bed with me. Let's kiss."

"Do you think of nothing else?" John smiled, climbing up beside him. 

"I think of lots of other things. I think about the news and about tea and about science and about books and about weird videos and about doing my laundry and also about tying my shoes whenever I need to tie them. And once I've thought about all those things, I occasionally find myself thinking about kissing," Sherlock said before kissing John's head and then turning over. "Forget about it, though, if you're already bored of it."

"I'm not bored! I was teasing," John said, curling against his back. He hugged his waist and buried his face into the back of his neck where he planted soft kisses. 

Sherlock turned slightly and said, "Do you see? Do you see how effective my pouting is? I told you it would work to get me what I wanted." He smiled and kissed John's face.

"You tricked me," John grumbled, smiling anyways.

"Call it what you will," Sherlock said, smiling back, "but it's very effective and I am very good at it."

"I'll be ready next time," John said.

"Whatever," Sherlock slid his hand along John's thigh and brought it up to rest on his waistband. "More kissing, please."

John rolled his eyes playfully and pressed his lips to Sherlock's.

Sherlock held John's kiss -- suddenly he felt very close to John, like this living situation was suddenly normal, that despite the fact they were in his parents' house, it was almost like they lived together on their own. He moved his hand to John's back and pulled John to him.

John wrapped one arm around his neck and played with his hair as they kissed.

"Mmm," Sherlock moaned softly, "I really do like that. No one ever touches my hair." He tangled their legs. "Only you can do that."

"Good," John smiled, his fingers tangling into the curls.

"I'd like to take off your clothes and touch all of your skin," Sherlock said, almost whispering. "Maybe I could put it in my mouth like you did for me."

John flushed lightly but nodded. "Okay," he whispered back, turning onto his back.

"Sorry, Charlie," Sherlock said, cheekily pulling John back towards him. "My parents are going to be home any minute, and we'll need to go down and speak to them. I was just telling you what I'd _like_ to do. I would like to, John." He gave him a slow kiss on the mouth and rested his hand on the fly of John's jeans.

"Stop teasing me," John pouted playfully, inching his hips away from Sherlock's hand.

"Why? It doesn't have to be bad, does it? What about our text conversations -- weren't those teasing? This is just how I'll tease you now that you live here." He scooted closer and put his hand back, palming John through his jeans. "Are you saying you don't like this, that it doesn't feel nice?" He kissed John again.

"It's good," John murmured. "But it makes me want more." He tried to move back again but Sherlock stuck close, making him moan softly.

"That's kind of the point, John," Sherlock said, slightly surprised by his own cheekiness. "Isn't it good to want more?" He licked at John's ear as he shifted his hand to John's arse, pushing it towards him so their groins pressed against each other.

"Not if you can't give it to me," John moaned softly, shamelessly bucking into Sherlock.

Sherlock moved his hand to John's hip to still his movement. "John, I'm afraid you're going to have to learn to be more patient. Now that you live here, we're not going to be able to finish every time we start. You need to start thinking about that in a good way. Perhaps this is one area where I do have more experience: I think I'm better at self control," he said smiling, "Okay, I'll stop teasing you now." He pushed John onto his back. Sherlock snuggled against him, sliding one hand into his hair which he petted softly. He put his other hand on John's chest and said, "Just breath deeply. Relax yourself."

John took deep, steady breaths. "We'll see about your self control when I get you," John said quietly.

"I will love every minute of it," Sherlock said. "Did you hear the door a few minutes ago? They're home. In a few minutes, we'll go down and say hello. We can make a cup of tea and then come back up, yeah?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "I go where you go," he said.

Sherlock stood up and wriggled a little to get himself sorted. "Okay, look, I'm not sure how this'll go. Just do or say whatever you feel like, okay?"

They headed downstairs. Sherlock's parents were both in the kitchen. "Will there be tea for John and me?" Sherlock asked.

"Who's John?" said Sherlock's mother, turning around.

"My friend who is staying with us."  
  
"Oh yes," Sherlock's mother said. "Hello there. No, there won't be enough water. We didn't know you were home. There was no note." 

Sherlock said, "Did you have a good time at the weekend?"  
  
"Yes," his mother said.

"Okay, then," Sherlock said.

The four of them stood awkwardly for a few minutes. Sherlock's father left the room. His mother poured two cups and followed him out. Sherlock refilled the kettle and said quietly to John, "And there you have my loving parents."

John looked after them and excused himself, following them into the sitting room. "Um . . . I just wanted to say thanks for letting me stay here," he said. They both stared back. Sherlock's mum smiled barely, and that was that. He awkwardly went back into the kitchen.

"That was quite sweet, John," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry they're like they are. It's not that they're horrible. They're just . . . not very good at sentiment." He smiled softly. The kettle boiled, and Sherlock poured it into a pot. He picked up a tray with mugs and a plate of biscuits. "Let's go back up. Our job here is done."

"Want me to take something?" He asked as they went upstairs.

"Just get the door for me," Sherlock said and then set the tray on the desk. "Listen, if you want more food or anything, let me know. We can go down together. We aren't trapped in this room, it's voluntary."

He sat down on the bed as the tea brewed. "After the tea, I'll probably take a bath. Maybe we could get into bed early and watch a film or something on the telly. I don't like going to sleep in silence really. Would that be okay? Would you hate that?"

"That would be all right," John smiled. "I usually like quiet when I try to sleep, but I suppose I can do that for you," he teased. He wasn't going to ask about his room, preferring to sleep with Sherlock instead. 

"I'd appreciate it if we could try it tonight. I suppose that's why it's good you have your own room," Sherlock stood up and poured the tea. He handed John a mug. "So we should set the alarm so we get up early. I'll be glad when we get back from your dad's house. Then we'll have time to sort your room as well."  
  
Once they finished the tea, Sherlock went in and turned on the bath. "What are you going to do while I'm in the bath? Don't go through my stuff," he said jokingly, though he felt better saying it aloud. He got his pajamas out. He also set out his clothes for tomorrow. "Are you going to shower or have a bath after me?"

John shook his head. "I will tomorrow when we get back," he said. "And I'll go through your stuff if I want to! What are you afraid I'll find? Porn?"

"No, you've seen all the porn I've ever looked at. I just would feel better knowing I can trust you to respect my privacy. I respect yours," he said seriously. "I'll be back in a bit. I'm sure you'll do the right thing." He went into the bathroom.


	12. First Night Living Together

Sherlock sunk into the water. He liked the water as hot as possible. He was nervous about tomorrow so he hoped the warmth would relax him. He thought about getting into bed with John, turning the light out and falling asleep beside him. That would be good. He closed his eyes for a while, but he knew he shouldn't stay in as long as he usually did. He had a quick wash and got out and dried off. He brushed his teeth and went back into the bedroom.

"Find anything interesting?"

"I didn't look. I do respect your privacy, and I would never do anything to ruin your trust," John said. He'd been teasing before but after what Sherlock said he felt it best to reassure him of that. "I'm just going to put my pajamas on and brush my teeth and I will be back." John went into his own little bathroom and brushed his teeth, digging out his pajamas and getting dressed. He thought about tomorrow and wondered if his dad went up to his room at all -- if he would even notice that things had been taken. He joined Sherlock a few minutes later, climbing back onto his bed. 

Sherlock got into the bed with John. He turned on the telly and turned off the light. He turned up the volume just a bit. He turned on his side and faced John. "I'm going to start something now and we are going to finish but only if you can be very, very quiet. What do you think?" He was already kissing John's ear. 

"I'll try," he whispered, noting the many pillows around them. He could easily grab one if he needed to smother himself. 

"Good, because I'll have to stop if you're noisy." Sherlock slid his hand inside John's pajama bottoms. He wrapped his fingers around John's cock, which was soft, but he didn't move his hand. He just held it. He kissed John's mouth a few more times before moving his body lower under the covers. He softly licked John's cock and covered it with soft kisses.

John took deep, shaky breaths, writhing very lightly as he started to get hard. 

Sherlock started swirling his tongue around John's cock. He found it exciting to be witnessing John getting hard. He sucked the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue again. He tried to remember the things John had done to him. He moved his tongue back down the shaft and quickly licked John's balls. He then starting stroking him with his hand. Sherlock looked up and whispered, "Move your body to show me what you want."

Soon John was panting softly, his fingers curling into the bed. He didn't know what to do besides buck forward so that's what he did, trying to get back to Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock used his hand to direct John's cock back into his mouth. He made his tongue flat and slid it along the shaft as John moved in and out. The movement of John's hips was starting to make Sherlock crazy; he was getting so hard and he felt his own hips moving slightly.

"That feels so good," John breathed heavily. He felt Sherlock squirming around and the thought that he was doing it for some sort of relief made John harder. 

Sherlock pulled his head back and licked the top of John's thigh as he stroked John's cock harder. He slipped it back in his mouth, taking more in this time. He dragged his tongue along it as it moved. He moved his other hand down to his own cock and just held it.

John moaned, a soft sound that made him quickly bite his lip. It was fantastic, and for some reason even more so by the fact that he couldn't express that. He just had to be quiet and take it. 

"Shhh," Sherlock said quietly. He kept moving his head, taking John further and further in. When it first hit the back of his throat, he felt like gagging so he moved back to licking until the feeling went away. The he sucked John into his mouth. He shifted positions so his own hard cock pressed against John's leg as he continued to move his hips.

John pressed his hand over his mouth, breathing fast and heavy through his nose. He moved his leg to offer some extra friction for Sherlock, wishing he could stretch his arm and touch him. 

"John," Sherlock whispered into John's skin. "This is so good." Sherlock could taste John's precome and he knew his own cock was wet. He wanted, wanted, wanted and felt like he was going to explode and because he was trying to be quiet, he had a horrible urge to moan loudly and thrash about.

John nodded quickly, whimpering softly behind his hand, the only thing he could do to further express just how much he agreed. His leg continued to move, crudely stroking Sherlock. 

Finally Sherlock couldn't take anymore. He slid his body up, pressing against John. He grabbed John's hand and moved it to his cock. "Please," he whispered into John's ear. He kept his hand moving on John even though the movement of hands and hips was somewhat chaotic.

John gripped his cock and stroked in time with his own bucking hips. He buried his face into Sherlock's neck and bit his lip to keep quiet.  

Sherlock mumbled John's name with each of his exhales, even though he felt like crying it out. "I don't know how much more I can take," Sherlock whispered.

John nodded. “M’close," he breathed against Sherlock's skin. 

Sherlock tried to say something but instead he felt the tension and all he could do was gasp as he came into John's hand. "John, God," he whispered, doing his best to still keep his hand moving. 

John slipped his free hand up to cover his mouth again, whimpering as he came seconds later, thrusting up into Sherlock. He pulled his hand away from his mouth slowly as he started to calm down. 

"We've made a mess," Sherlock whispered, smiling. "You were a good boy being quiet. I felt like I wanted to scream. I love doing this."

John laughed softly. "It was very hard, but there was no way I was letting you stop again," he said quietly. 

Sherlock leaned over to the bedside cabinet and took out some tissues and started to wipe their bellies. "Should we do it again in a little while?" he said.

John chuckled. "Yes, please," he said. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Let's cuddle for a bit and watch whatever this stupid show is. Then we can do it again. I feel like I want to do it throughout the night, but that's probably not very realistic."

"You're trying to kill me," he laughed, cuddling close to Sherlock. 

"I'm not," Sherlock said, kissing the top of John's head. "I just like being with you so much. You are very sexy to me."

"I like being with you, too." John smiled at the kiss. "I've never met anyone like you. I feel so…" John struggled to find the right words. "I'm just really happy," he settled with lamely.

"I'm glad," Sherlock said, lying back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "This is good and we should appreciate it. Realistically, it won't last forever, will it? There's much evidence to the contrary that happiness like this will not last long. Let's be glad we have it now before you move away or the newness makes it less exciting or you tire of me." He stroked John's hair. He knew it wasn't a romantic thing to say but despite the changes over the last few weeks, he was still logical Sherlock.

"I don't plan on going anywhere without you," John said, and he wondered if that was a pathetic thing to admit. Was Sherlock just riding this out until he got bored? The thought made John's stomach twist uncomfortably. John turned onto his back, effectively moving a bit away from him. "I wasn't joking when I said I loved you."

Sherlock turned again to face John. "I wasn't joking when I said it either. I've never said it to anyone, I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it. I do, John, and I don't want it to change. It might, though, and I just want to be glad for every second that it's good." He lay his arm across John's chest and moved his fingers lightly on John's opposite arm.

John turned onto his side to face Sherlock. "Are you waiting for it to get bad? I don't want it to. I don't want to lose you," he added softly.

"No, that's the whole point. I'm concentrating on all the good. I'm just not used to doing that, it's hard for me to find good. But now I have and I want it to stay. I mean it," he kissed John's neck softly.

"Okay," John said quietly. "Don't scare me like that," he half teased.

"I don't mean to," Sherlock said. "But you mustn't forget how I am. I've only been honest with you -- the sex stuff, the love stuff, that's honest. But there's other stuff to me as well and I have to be honest about those things. I guess there's stuff about both of our lives that's scary to the other person. But we'll get through it."

"You're right," John nodded. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

Sherlock smiled cheekily. "Hmmm, I'm not sure I can forgive you. Perhaps you need to do something to make it up to me . . ." he said quietly.

John pressed his lips to Sherlock's ear. "I'll do what ever you want," he murmured.

"I want to do everything all the time, John, so that's not much help. Surprise me," Sherlock whispered back.

John smiled and scooted under the covers, kissing Sherlock's chest and stomach on the way down. As he approached his cock John cupped his balls and massaged slowly.

"Mmmm," Sherlock softly moaned. Suddenly being quiet seemed extremely difficult. He lifted up the covers and whispered, "John, I'm worried about making noise. If I say stop, stop, okay? But don't stop yet. It feels good."

John nodded against him and quickly sucked Sherlock into his mouth, moving slow and hollowing his cheeks. He recognised the taste of come on him.

Sherlock did his best to relax and lose himself in the feelings John was creating. They were so good, but they almost . . . hurt as well because they made him want so much. He shifted slightly and reached down to softly touch John's hair.

John focused on the head, sucking and licking the tip hard. His hand continued to massage his balls.

John's mouth was warm and wet and Sherlock loved what John did with it, he loved that he was the only one John had ever done this to. He rocked his hips just a little. "John," he whispered and he realised it sounded quite desperate, but he didn't care because desperate was how he felt.

John pulled off, worried that Sherlock wanted him to stop. He softly kissed at his thighs instead.

"John, I need . . . I can't last much longer. If you want to stop doing that, you can -- I don't care what you do but I need to . . . finish," Sherlock did his best to whisper through his heavy breathing. It was kind of embarrassing really, but he was surprised how big the ache was.

"Sorry. I thought you wanted me to stop," John explained quickly before sucking him in again. He focused on the head and gently stroked the rest. He'd be ready this time.

"I lose my ability to clearly communic--" Sherlock tried to say before taking a deep inhale as John took him back into his mouth.

John hummed softly around him as he pressed his tongue into the tip.

"That feels . . . weird," Sherlock whispered as he pulled his hips back a little. He slipped his hand under the covers and touched John's hair. "Go back to like before."

John nodded and sucked him into his mouth, bobbing his head normally again.

Sherlock closed his eyes. He pictured what was happening, as if he were watching from above. He pictured the way John's body must be curled slightly, he wondered if John was hard, if John liked doing it as much as he liked it being done, as much as Sherlock liked doing it to John. He gripped the sheets with one hand and John's hair with the other. He could feel that he was going to come. He said, "I'm going to," and he let himself go and the orgasm moved through his entire body.

John swallowed this time, bobbing slowly through his orgasm. His hand massaged his thigh.

Sherlock caught his breath and reached down to pull John up to him. He squeezed him and was muttering, "Yes, yes, yes," though even he wasn't sure why. He moved his face to John's and whispered, "Are you okay?"

John nodded, swiping his hand across his mouth even though nothing had spilled. "Yes," John said quietly. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You sure? You never have to do that if you're not into it, you know," Sherlock said. "You are very good at it, but you don't have to swallow it if you don't want to."

"It wasn't so bad," John said.  "Did you like it?"

"Jesus, John, I did, you make me feel so . . . fantastic, I don't know how else to say it," Sherlock kissed his face.

John smiled. "I meant the swallowing -- did it make it better for you?"

"Well, I've just got the two to judge by but I have to be honest, at that moment, I'm a little bit distracted so where it's going is kind of irrelevant. There's nothing to clean up at least," he smiled and kissed John again. "When you do it again, just do whatever you want. I mean, of course, if you do it again."

"Of course I will do it again," John smiled, laying his head onto Sherlock's chest and hugging him around the middle. "I like making you feel good."

"I worry that I don't make you feel as good as you make me feel," Sherlock said, without thinking of the sentence that was going to come out next. "You've done stuff, other people have done stuff to you and I've got none of that."

"You make me feel fantastic, Sherlock, even just sitting in the same room as me. The fact that you have chosen me to share these things with -- I can't describe it. No one will ever come close to you. I love you -- and everything you do for me."

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock said. "You don't know what you mean to me. There's no way you'll ever be able to know. But please trust me."

John chuckled softly. "I do trust you," he said. 

"Fine, so I presume that can only mean that at some point in the near future, you're going to let me do sex to you? Because I really want to try it and I'd hate to have to go out and find another boyfriend because I'm really busy this week," Sherlock said, pulling a face at John.

John couldn't help laughing. "It's 'have sex with you', you goof, not 'do sex to you'," he grinned.

"Whatever, don't make fun, I've never done it so I don't care what the words are. Let's just have it then," Sherlock said then stopped. "Oh my god, John, I'm peer pressuring you into having sex. God, I'm a terrible person. That said, is it working? Are we going to do it or what?" He laughed softly.

"Not with your parents downstairs! You could hardly get through a blowjob quietly, let alone when you're plunged inside me," he said without thinking. He flushed brightly. "I mean . . .however we do it . . .it'll be more intense than . . .sorry," he stammered, hiding his face. 

"Okay, first of all, I did not mean this very second. I'm nervous enough -- I think my parents' presence would only increase that anxiety. Second of all, 'plunged'? Really, John? That's the word you're going to use to describe sex to someone who's never done it? 'Plunged' doesn't sound very romantic or even very sexy. Are you trying to put me off it?"

"Shut up!" John said, burying his face hard into his shoulder. "I just meant -- never mind. I'm going to my room before I die of embarrassment." He started a feeble attempt to get away.

"Oh no you don't," Sherlock said pulling him back. "And might I just remind you that even though you've done sex with two girls, you say you've never done with it a boy so don't go acting like an expert, mister."

"I never said I was an expert!" John said. 

"Well, you were making predictions about my behaviour while being 'plunged.' I don't know where you get off making claims like that," Sherlock said, giggling now every time he said the word 'plunged.' 

"Stop it!" John groaned. "I'm sorry," he said again, scrambling to get away. 

"Say we'll do sex soon and I'll stop," Sherlock said, squeezing John into a tight hug so he couldn't get away.

"Yes! Whenever you want," John laughed. 

"Good. God, I'm so genuinely glad you are here, John," Sherlock said, snuggling into him. "Now let's go to sleep. This bed stinks of sex," he said, interrupting his thought process. "God, I almost feel drunk from what's been going on in this bed. Let's go to sleep in it anyway, but remind me to open the window in the morning."

"We can always migrate to my fresh room," John pointed out. 

"Excellent point. In future, we should limit ejaculations to one each per bed -- then we swap," Sherlock said. He was starting to giggle and trying to stay quiet. "See what I mean? I feel drunkenly stupid. What have you done to me?" He pinched John's arm.

"Ow! Don't pinch me!" John said, scrambling to get away again. "I don't think I want to be in this abusive relationship!" he teased. "You're the one that is drunkenly in love!"

"Sorry," Sherlock said seriously. "Don't say abusive about us. I'm teasing. I am drunk in love with you, cute face." He kissed John softly, settling down a bit. 

"I was teasing, too," John said, realising he'd have to be more careful. "I'm sorry. You know I don't mean that."

"I do know, but I guess I'm feeling guilty that I was pressuring you a bit. I shouldn't do that. I don't want you to think that just because you live here, you have to do whatever I say." Sherlock pulled his pajama bottoms on.

"I wasn't thinking that at all. I like when we play like that," John assured him, getting back into his pajamas as well.

"Good, I didn't mean anything like that but I shouldn't have hassled you. I'm glad everything's good now. Sorry I started talking stupid. I'm just tired, I think. We should stop talking so I don't say anything else I regret." He turned off the television and turned on the radio softly. "Is this too loud? If you can't get to sleep, tell me."

John leaned up and kissed him softly. "You worry far too much," he smiled softly. "I wish you would stop." He kissed him again and curled close to him, closing his eyes. 

"If I didn't worry, I'd be a fat man and then you'd never let me do sex with you," Sherlock said smiling. He stroked John's hair.

"You're right. Your looks are the only thing going for you," John said with mock seriousness. 

"Shut your cute face," Sherlock said. "I'm going to sleep now. If you're here in the morning, fine. If you've got to get back to the mental hospital before morning, feel free to let yourself out." He turned over.

John snorted out a laugh and swatted Sherlock's arm as he turned away from John.  Grinning, John turned onto his stomach and within minutes he was fast asleep.

Sherlock listened to John's breathing change as he fell asleep. He was relieved the radio didn't bother him because Sherlock often struggled to get to sleep and the radio helped. However, tonight, before the first program even finished, he too was asleep.

John had a strange dream involving his father coming to get him from the Holmes house, apologising profusely. But when he got John home, he beat him to death while Harry watched from the window. Sherlock was banging on the door to get in. He woke up with a loud gasp, clapping a hand over his mouth to keep his breathing quiet.  He found the radio and saw it was only three in the morning. As he lay back down he reached out and gently touched Sherlock's back, reminding himself where he was. He fell asleep again, his hand against Sherlock and his mind quiet.


	13. John's House

When both of their alarms went off simultaneously, Sherlock awoke with a start. He turned over to check John. "We should get up shortly," he said, hitting his snooze button just in case. In his heart, he didn't want to: he was nervous about going to John's house. But he wanted it to be over, wanted to John to properly live here and knew that it had to be done.

John stretched but kept his eyes closed for a little bit longer, humming to let Sherlock know he was up. As he started drifting off again he slowly got himself up, yawning loudly.

Sherlock was looking at the ceiling. "John, just so you know, my stomach hurts with nerves. I do not want to make anything worse for you or make this all about me, but that's how I feel and I just wanted to tell you."

John opened his eyes and looked over at Sherlock, touching his thigh lightly. "I'm nervous, too. But he won't be there. I promise. We'll just be in and out." 

"I believe you," Sherlock said, "but that's only part of it. It'll just be upsetting to see some of your life that so separate from me, and a part that I know was mostly horrible. Do I know the boy whose room I'll be going into? Was that you? It's just weird and sad, I suppose. And that's making my stomach hurt."

John crawled up and leaned against him, hugging him tightly. "You saved that boy," he said quietly. "It will be okay."

Sherlock hugged John back. "I just want you to be safe being you. Always be yourself with me, okay? We have to be safe being ourselves with each other, yeah?"

"I promise," John nodded.

"Good, and I'll keep pouting as I see necessary since that's unfortunately a part of my self," Sherlock said, slipping out of the bed. "Let's get the day started."

John kissed his cheek and sat up. "I'll go get dressed," he said, going into his room to find clothes.

"I'm going to get in the shower. Unlike my baths, my showers are quick. You can get in after me if you want," Sherlock called as he walked to the bathroom. He wasn't lying: he was out and dressed within fifteen minutes.

John got dressed and emptied his bag so he could bring that along with him.

In the spare room, Sherlock found two carry-on bags. He took them to John's room. "How about these? One fits in the other when they're empty. Then we can also stick in some bin bags in case we need those. Would boxes be better?"

John looked up and nodded. "Yes, those will work great." He shouldered his own bag and followed Sherlock downstairs. "Let's get food when we're done. I'm too nervous to eat now," he admitted.

"That sounds better," Sherlock said. Before he opened the front door, he turned to John and said, "No matter what, we will be coming back here together. I do love you, John, and we're going to be okay." He leaned over and kissed John softly on the mouth.

John kissed him back and nodded. "Together," he agreed. When he pulled away he looked around. "Are we going to take a cab? I think that would be best so there is no car outside of the house, just in case."

"Yes, let's," Sherlock said. They walked a bit up the road to a taxi stand and got a lift with an older man who had driven Sherlock a number of times.

John tapped his fingers against his thighs, looking around as they drove along.

Sherlock rested his hand on John's and smiled at him. To be fair, Sherlock's own stomach was jumping with nerves. He felt more anxious about the emotional aspects -- how would John feel about being in the house where so much, including some good surely, had occurred, how would John feel about leaving that house again. Sherlock did not know what to expect from John, which meant he did not know how to prepare to help John and Sherlock hated not knowing. So for right now, he just stroked John's fingers which seemed to help both of them a little.

John glanced over at him and smiled. "Just nervous," he said quietly. When they pulled up to the house, the car was gone and John sighed with relief. "He's not home but let's be quick," he said.

Sherlock realised he was holding the bags tightly as he and John walked into the house. He noticed his whole body was tense so he tried to just think about their leaving, their getting back to his house, to _their_ house, and being able to let themselves relax.

John found the spare key and let Sherlock in, locking the door behind him. He looked around for a second before taking Sherlock's hand. "Come on, my room is up here," he said, pulling him along up the stairs. 

Sherlock just kept breathing. He felt again like his heart was beating too fast, but he tried to remember the last time that had happened and how it hadn't lasted long. The house was different from Sherlock's and probably what he had expected. It was definitely a house lived in by only men. He let John lead him upstairs.

John hesitated before pushing the door open fully and walked into his room, glancing at Sherlock nervously. "This is it," he said quietly, looking around the room. The bed wasn't made and the desk was cluttered but it was mostly clean.

"It feels strange," Sherlock said quietly. "It's like you just disappeared from it, not like you left it but like one minute you were living in it and the next minute you were gone. . . . Which I guess is what happened, but it feels kind of eerie." He looked around. "I'm glad I've seen it, I'm glad you let me see who you were before. Tell me what stuff to get -- we can take as much as you want, even if we've got to get the taxi driver to help us carry it, take whatever you want to have in your new room."

"You get the books and I'll get the clothes and such," John said, moving to the closet.

Sherlock started packing the books, trying to balance them between the two big carry-ons so they wouldn't be too heavy. Then he remembered each had wheels so he was less picky. He tried not to pay attention to the books' titles, but he couldn't help it. Some novels that Sherlock had either read or at least heard of, some books on space, others about rugby. He noticed one on magic but otherwise there was nothing that was too surprising. He wondered what he had been worried about seeing -- a book about seducing clever, inexperienced boys into helping with chemistry? Was he all of a sudden not sure about John? It was just that he still just felt so uncomfortable. He knew it must be because they weren't really in John's house at all. They were in John's father's house, and Sherlock did not trust John's father.

John haphazardly shoved clothes from the closet into his bag, which was thankfully big enough to hold everything, even if it was spilling out a bit. He settled his laptop on top of the pile, stuffed in a picture of his mum and then looked around satisfied.  "I think that's everything," John said, looking over at Sherlock.

"Do you need anything from the bathroom or anything?" Sherlock said, trying to read John's face. It was hard to tell what John was feeling. Sherlock wondered what his own face looked like.

John shook his head. "I'll buy new -- I just had one bottle of hair and body wash," he said. He looked around the room one more time, trying to comprehend the fact that he was never coming back. There was no note, no sign that his father had come up here, nothing to suggest his father had noticed John's absence at all. "Um . . . there's some emergency money in his room. Would it be wrong if I took some of it?" 

"You have to decide. What will be his response? You are currently doing nothing legally wrong, because you are moving your own things out. If the money is his, could he accuse you of stealing? I presume he wouldn't call the police since he'd be putting himself at risk, but are the potential problems worth it? I would happily get a job myself and give you the money to avoid any more problems from him," Sherlock reached out and touched John's arm. "But I'm afraid this is a decision you only can make."

John moved forward and pressed into Sherlock's arms, grateful that he was here. "I won't take it. He would call the police, I know it," he mumbled. "We should go. I have everything I need." He pulled away and smiled up at him. "Come on."

Sherlock did his best to maneuver the bags down the stairs. He rang the same taxi company and they waited downstairs for the car to arrive. "Let's go straight home," he said. "It's still early. We can rest and unpack and I'll take you on a lunch date later on, okay?"

"Okay," John agreed. "Where will you take me?" He asked with a smile. 

"Anywhere you want to go, John Watson," Sherlock said, smiling at him. He would do anything for John and even though that was the kind of thing stupid people said about people they loved, Sherlock knew it was true about him and John.

"Take me to your favourite place," John said, looking out as the cab pulled up. He picked up his bag and headed out, locking the door behind him. "And not the cafe either," he teased.  

"I will," Sherlock promised. "But before, I will take you to my other favourite place which is a nap with you," he smiled as they drove away from John's house and John's father, for good.

John looked back at the house and then looked at Sherlock. "A nap sounds fantastic," he smiled. 

Sherlock slid his hand into John's for the rest of the ride. They carried John's things into the house and up to his room. "Shall we unpack now or after the nap? Whatever you want."

"Let's unpack, I want this to be officially done," he said. He set the laptop onto the desk and moved to the closet to unpack his clothes. 

"Here, let me hang up the clothes, that's easy enough. You can put the other things wherever you want to have them," Sherlock said, grabbing some hangers.

John switched with him and started to arrange his books on the small shelf in the room. 

"Can you think of anything else you want in here? We can stop at the shop on the way home from lunch. I know you don't want me to buy things for you, but pretend they're belated birthday presents from last year and just let me get anything you need to feel at home. And don't give me any back talk about this," he said, smiling.

"I don't need anything," John smiled. "Just the body wash and shampoo. I promise," he said. 

"Fine, we'll get those but if you see anything, let me know," he looked around the room. "This place hasn't looked lived in forever. I think it looks good. Do you like it?"

"I do," he nodded. "Thank you, Sherlock," he smiled wide. 

"Good, I'm glad. I hope you will spend time in here, not because you want to get away from me, but so you feel . . . at home. However, can we have our nap in my room?"

"Would you mind if we had it in here? I want to share my room with you," John said. With all of his things moved in now he could almost pretend he was back at his house -- that he had a normal life and he could invite his boyfriend over and it would be fine. 

"Sure. Let me get some water, choose your side of the bed," Sherlock said. He went down and got some water. He heard the post come through but he didn't go to check it. He was glad they hadn't been gone long -- there was still a lot of time they could spend together. He knew they'd be going back to college tomorrow, that things would start to go back to normal. This would be good in some ways, but Sherlock was really enjoying just having the whole day to themselves.

John crawled onto the bed, smiling at how comfortable it was -- much more so than his own. He lay down on the right side and got under the covers, waiting for Sherlock to come back up. 

Sherlock stopped at the door of John's room, looking in at John already in bed. It was strange, he hadn't seen anyone live in that room since Mycroft was here. In some ways, it was almost like he and John were brothers since they both lived under his parents' roof. But obviously in most ways, they were very much not like brothers. Sherlock knew the word was boyfriends but their connection seemed different, more, than how he had heard others use the word boyfriend. He went in and set the water on the table. He kicked off his shoes and slid in the bed next to John.

John turned to face him, smiling wide at him. "I can almost pretend I've brought you to my house," he whispered. 

Sherlock turned to face John. "Well, technically you did bring me to your house, you know. But I know what you mean. Fine, I'm your guest. What kind of host do you think you'll be?" he said.

"A terrible one," John smiled. "I've never had to entertain anyone before."

"You don't have to entertain me, you fool," Sherlock laughed. He set his hand on John's hip. "I'm glad we're back home safe. Please let me know if he contacts you. I don't want to worry anymore but I will until at least tomorrow, I think. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. I don't know if he goes into my room, but if he does I will let you know." John put his hand over Sherlock's and rubbed the back of his hand slowly. "Thank you for coming with me today," he said. 

"I knew you could do it on your own, but I felt better that we could do it together," Sherlock made a smile at John and lifted his other arm to fiddle with John's hair.

"I couldn't have done it alone," John admitted. "I'm really glad that you came with me."

"Well, you're not alone now, John," Sherlock said softly. "Now you have me. And I have you," he leaned in and gave John a quick kiss.

John scooted over and curled against Sherlock, his forehead against Sherlock's chest. "When we wake up I'll call my sister."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's back. "Sounds good," he whispered. He let one hand move to John's neck and stroked the skin gently as he listened to John's breathing. 

John feel asleep easily in his arms like this, his hands against Sherlock's stomach going slack.

Sherlock stayed quiet as John fell to sleep. He occasionally softly stroked his neck and back. Then he closed his own eyes and slept, wrapped around John.


	14. Upset

When John woke up, Sherlock was lying on his back and John was curled against him. He slowly moved back and crept out of bed, fishing out his phone and scrolling to his sister's name. He hesitated, looking over at Sherlock. He didn't want to wake him for this so he snuck out of the room and went to the bathroom to make the call. 

John pressed the button and waited as the phone rang and rang. A small part of him hoped that she wouldn't answer the phone, but suddenly the ringing cut off and he heard Harry's voice. 

"John? How are you?"

"Hey," John said lamely, realising he had no idea how to start. 

"Are you okay? He hasn't done anything stupid, has he?" she asked immediately.

"Um, well, that's why I'm calling," John said, leaning against the door and pinching his nose. 

"What did he do to you?"

"Well, it's a long story but I met someone . . . a boy--"

"What? Oh John, look, just because I am doesn't mean you --"

"Shut up, Harry, I'm not confused because you're bloody gay," he said angrily. "I love him. Anyways, Dad found out and -- well, he got me really bad. I've moved out and I'm living with Sherlock. He thought it would be a good idea to tell you."

Harry was quiet for a while. "You didn't want to tell me? Didn't think about calling me?"

"For what? You came out and then left me with him -- you think this is the first time he's hit me?" John asked angrily. "Not like you care, running off with your bloody girlfriend and screw whatever happens to me."

"John, I couldn't stay there -- and now you've done the same thing!"

"But I haven't left someone behind to take the punishment," John said. "Look, I just wanted you to know that I'm not at Dad's anymore, in case you decided to come looking for me or something."

"Are you safe? Who is this boy?" 

"Please don't act like you suddenly care," John said, and before she could say anything else John hung up the phone. In the silence of the bathroom he thought the whole thing over, sinking down onto the floor. That could have gone better, but he was angrier than he'd realised. He wondered if Sherlock would be disappointed.  

Sherlock was having a confusing dream. He and John were brothers, their father was his but acted like John's. He was screaming and hit Sherlock and they ran and cowered in a corner. When he woke he realised that they had been children in the dream. Sherlock was confused about where he was, why he was in Mycroft's room. Then he remembered it was John's room now. But John wasn't there. Sherlock closed his eyes again for a minute until he felt less confused.

When he opened them again, it was obvious that John had got up already. So he too got up and when he saw the bathroom door was closed, he assumed John was in there but he thought he heard John's voice. He didn't know if he should listen -- well, no, he knew that he shouldn't listen. But he realised he couldn't hear the words, just the sound, so he absolved himself of any guilt. Then suddenly the sound stopped and Sherlock did not know what to do: sneak back to bed? Ask John if he was okay? Stand there until John came out? The last one seemed the dumbest option; unfortunately, he took too long to decide so that was precisely what happened as John opened the door and saw Sherlock standing there.

"Hey," John said. "I, um, I was just talking to my sister," he explained. "I didn't want to wake you." 

"I heard you talking but couldn't hear what you were saying," Sherlock tried to explain. "How did it go?"

"Um, all right," he shrugged. "She thinks I'm confused because she's gay. I might have shouted at her."

"Hmmm," Sherlock said, "That doesn't sound like it went all right then. Come here," he slid John into a hug. "Why are you so angry at her?" he said into John's hair.

"Because she left me with that maniac," John said angrily. He took a deep breath. "She pissed him off and then left me alone with him." That time his voice was much more calm.  

Sherlock stroked John's back. "You should be angry at him. You can be angry at her. You may also be . . . hurt by her. You can feel whatever feel, John, I just wish you didn't have to feel so many bad things."

"Why couldn't she have taken me with her? Why couldn't she have waited until I left for school?" John asked. 

"You couldn't wait until you left for school. How is your sister doing -- is she thriving? Could she have really looked after you as well as herself if she had taken you with her? I know it's horrible, John, I wish it weren't. But you're safe now and maybe the anger with her will pass. It's okay no matter what," he still kept his arms around John.

"I mean she could have waited to say something," John explained. "And I'm her brother -- she should have taken me with her. Protected me instead of leaving me there."

"Because you were so happy keeping your feelings a secret? She should have kept hers a secret, too? She should have protected you by getting you both away from him. But John, he's your father, he is the one who is horrible. I don't know your sister, I don't mean to defend her, but please don't make anger the only thing you can feel."

"It's the only thing there is! My mum is gone, my dad is horrible, and my sister ditched me!" John exclaimed. He knew that Sherlock was right but he just wanted to vent and he wished Sherlock would just agree and tell him they were all terrible people. He didn't want to hear logic. 

"Okay, John," Sherlock said. "You know the situation, I don't. I'm sorry." He moved his face alongside John's so he would whisper into his ear. "It's okay, John, I'm here," he said and just held him.

John felt his eyes burning with frustration. "I just . . . they don't even realise what they've done. They won't even apologize," he mumbled. "From him I expect that but . . . I don't know." 

Sherlock moved his face slightly to kiss John's cheek. He didn't say anything because he wasn't sure what to say. It felt like John just needed to speak so Sherlock would let him.

"He didn't even . . . he's just going on with his life while both of his kids have run away. He's a monster and he just keeps living and working like nothing happened and I hate him," John spat angrily. Maybe with time he would forgive Harry but he could never forgive his father. 

"It's okay," Sherlock said quietly. "Whatever you feel is okay."

"I feel . . .angry, Sherlock. Almost violently. I want to run until I can't breathe and hit him until my hands hurt and just . . ." he trailed off, breathing heavily. 

"Then let's go for a run or you can go punch your pillows. Do you want to shout or cry? Don't keep it inside. And don't hurt anyone, including yourself. I love you . . . "

"I want to run," John nodded. His body felt like a pulled rubber band, tension building and building. "I need to . . .please . . . "

"Of course," Sherlock stepped away from John and led him to the hallway window. "There's a path behind the garden. Follow it -- it's just a big circle. You'll end up back here." He looked at John. "Go and don't stop until it feels better." He kissed him quickly and then turned John towards the stairs.

John hurried down stairs, went straight outside and started to run. He got onto the path and just took off as fast as he could. His feet pounded against the ground, he could hardly breath, his lungs burned and his sides ached but the pounding into the earth felt great. After several times around he slowed to a stop and started beating a tree, having the sense to pick up a rock so that he wouldn't break his hand. He was at it for several minutes, bark chipping off of the tree before he slumped down exhausted, sweaty, and panting. 

Sherlock felt sick to his stomach again, because John was hurting and because, this time, Sherlock couldn't help. He didn't know John's family, he didn't know John's feelings. He didn't know how to help. He sat down on the floor by the window and tried to breathe deeply, hoping everything would be okay as he promised John it would be.

When John finally caught his breath he headed back inside, padding around the house gently now as if to counteract everything he'd done outside. What if this kept happening and next time running wouldn't be enough? What if he snapped and hit someone? What if he hit Sherlock? The thought made him sick and he wondered if this relationship was a good idea—wondered if he could really be good to someone else.

Sherlock heard John come back in. Because he didn't know what to do, he did nothing. John knew where he'd be. Perhaps John just needed more time on his own. They had spent every waking (and sleeping) minute together since that night. Sherlock had loved every minute of it. But he also knew that everyone needed to be by themselves sometimes, he of all people knew that.

John climbed up and found Sherlock by the window. He headed over and sank down beside him, leaning on his shoulder. "Sorry about that," he mumbled. "Thank you."

"Do you feel better? For the minute I mean? You can do that anytime, it's not good to hold it in because then it gets stronger. That's how people end up having heart attacks . . . or become violent, holding it in. Anger will always be destructive unless you make it productive," Sherlock said.

John sighed. "I feel better. I let it all go. I let go of my dad and Harry leaving and all of it. I don't want to feel angry like that again."

"Well, if you do, remember this moment and how running made it better. Then go run," Sherlock said, reaching out to hold John's hand.

John held his hand back. "I was overwhelmed. When we went to the house there wasn't even a note and I just thought he'd maybe regret it. And then Harry just . . . she made me feel like some kid and I-I don't know."

Sherlock didn't know what to say, so he just sat quietly, listening.

"I keep hoping he's going to call and even though I would never go back I still want him to ask . . . for it to matter to him because we're his kids."

Sherlock could kind of understand this feeling. He remembered the first time John asked if his parents showed any interest in him and how the answer was legitimately no. That didn't seem right, just like what John was saying didn't seem right.

"No matter what he's done I want him to want to take care of us, and I know that's pathetic but he's my dad, you know?" John said.

"I do know," Sherlock said quietly. "I do know what you mean and you're right, but it looks like that's not going to happen."

"You've done so much already," John said, looking over at him. He kissed his cheek. "I should shower," he said after a second, realising he was still sweaty from before. 

"Do you still want to get lunch or do you want to wait a little it can be our dinner? We can have something to eat here if you want to wait."

"I am pretty hungry. Maybe just a snack when I get out and then we can have dinner?" John said.

"Sounds good," Sherlock said, "I'll go down and make some sandwiches while you shower. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thanks," John said, standing up and helping Sherlock to his feet. "I won't be long," he said, heading to his room.

Sherlock went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. As he made the sandwiches, he realised there was a part of him that would be glad to go to college tomorrow. Today didn't feel as nice as yesterday had, and he wondered if maybe things would start feeling normal now that John's things were here and they were going to go back to the regular schedules.

John took a quick shower, rinsing the sweat off and washing up. When he got out he dressed quickly and met Sherlock in the kitchen. "I want to treat you, when we go out tonight," John said as he sat down.

"That's not fair," Sherlock said, "for two reasons. First, I offered to pay and it's rude to not accept that. Secondly, I am worried about money becoming an issue between us. I have it and you don't -- neither one of us deserves our circumstances, but that's how it is. Please let me use the money I have to help you or, at the very least, keep you from spending the money you'll need for uni. Please, John, I don't want this to happen all the time." Sherlock swallowed and said, "I am kind of worried about it."

"It's not because of anything like that," John said, looking down at the table. "I've just been so angry and taking it out badly and I just want to make it up to you."

"It's okay, John," Sherlock put a mug of tea in front of John. "I've presumed that's how friendship works. You make it up to me by being there for me when I have bad days -- not by buying me stuff."

"I'm not trying to bribe you," John smiled softly. "It's hard when I have more bad days than you do."

"Don't you worry," Sherlock said, "I'll have my share. This is just bad for you right now, that's all."

"Well, I don't want you to have any, of course," John said.  He sipped at his tea.

"But I will. That's life. Mine's not likely to be anger maybe, but I've had bad days and I'll undoubtedly have more. Then you can look after me maybe," he touched John's hand softly. "Look, I don't want to make things worse, but we're going back to college tomorrow. Do you have any work you need to get done or did you finish everything yesterday?"

"Nothing that's due but I'd like to get some notes down, rewrite a few things and study," he said. He'd almost forgotten they were going back tomorrow, that there was regular life to get on with.

"Well, we can work for a while. Then when we've finished, we'll go to dinner and have nothing to do when we get back. We can get an early night since it'll be weird to get up and go in."

"Okay," John agreed. "I'll work in my new room," he smiled.  He was eager to test it out but also figured Sherlock could use a bit of space. How long had it been since his brother was here and he had to live with someone else?

"All right then," Sherlock said, washing the dishes from lunch. "We can each work at our desks, but if you need any help or anything, just ask." They both headed upstairs. Sherlock sat down; he had an idea for a new experiment and needed to plot it out before he started. His hypothesis was wrong last time, and he hated that feeling. He pulled out a notebook and started making sketches and taking notes.

John shut his door and worked at his desk for a while, mostly making notes for chemistry after he quickly did his other subjects. It was getting darker out, but he was hardly noticing.

Once Sherlock had finished, he decided to have another shower. He set out his clothes for the date and also his clothes for college tomorrow. He knocked on John's door and called, "I'm going into the bathroom. Should we leave for dinner soon or do you want to skip it?"

"I'm almost done. I'll be dressed by the time you get out," John called back.


	15. Another Date

Sherlock hurried through his shower. He realised he felt quite hungry, which was unusual. He felt a little nervous about the date, but not as much as the first time. When he was clean and dressed, he went back to John's room to see if he was ready to go.

John had put his things away and thrown on a pair of jeans and a jumper they'd brought from their trip today. He smoothed out his hair a bit before opening the door for Sherlock. "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's go," Sherlock said. "You look very nice." They went out for the ten minute walk. Sherlock headed into a small place that didn't even look like a restaurant from the outside. Inside, though, it was warm and busy. There were a lot of little tables, each had a candle. An old woman came over and greeted Sherlock. She led him and John to a table in the back. She left and returned with some bread and a pitcher of water with two glasses, and then disappeared again. 

"They only serve one thing here, they make a different meal each day and that's all they serve. It's kind of interesting since you're never quite sure what you'll get," Sherlock explained to John.

"Oh, how fun," John said, looking around the restaurant now.

A young man set a loaf of bread on the table and two bowls of soup. "Hi Sherlock," the server said before going back to the kitchen.

"This is challah bread," Sherlock said. "It's quite nice." He broke some off and handed it to John. He took a spoonful of soup, blew on it and ate it. "They have excellent chicken soup. Anyway, are you feeling okay about going back to school? Your face looks pretty normal so hopefully there won't be any questions."

"I think it'll be okay. I just wanted to get over the shock of it all, you know?" John asked, sipping on his soup. It was delicious. 

"You should probably give the office your new address," Sherlock said. He cleared his throat a little. "Can I ask you a personal question? What happened to your mum?"

John tore at the bread as he spoke. "She got sick when I was little, I don't remember much. Harry hardly talked about her and my dad never did."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "That must have been difficult. Seems like our families aren't very good at talking about things. We should make sure that we don't let that happen to us."

John nodded. "Harry is so much older that she had good memories so it was painful for her. I hardly remember."

"I wonder if I'll ever meet her," Sherlock said. "We each have pretty crap families it seems."

The older woman returned to the table and set down two serving plates. "Blintzes and holishkes," she said, "One's sweet, the other isn't. I'll let you figure it out." She set down two dinner plates, smiled and left.

Sherlock scooped some food onto John's plate and handed it to him. "These are cabbage rolls. We'll save the blintzes for last since they're sweet." The food was steaming and smelled delicious. Sherlock drank some water before digging in.

"Wow," John smiled, looking at everything. "It all looks great, Sherlock!"

"I'm glad you like it," Sherlock said. "It's run by a family and they've always been very kind to me. I don't know, I just like coming here."

"I like it even more now," John smiled.

"I'm glad. Have I done okay for our second date? Do you think we'll go on a third?"

John couldn't help laughing. "I guess we'll see at the end of the night. You know what happens after the third date?" John teased.

"John, I don't even know what happens after the second date. What should I be expecting when we get home tonight?"

"Well, I was just teasing, seeing as we haven't followed any traditional rules," he said.

"True that," Sherlock said. He leaned over close and said quietly, "Technically we did the mouth stuff before we even had our first date, you know."

"Yes, I know," John smiled. "That's why I was teasing and that's why we can do whatever we want when we get home."

"Hmmm . . . are you sure you mean whatever I want? Did I mention that while you were studying, I was watching more videos and have learned of many new and interesting things that can be done?" Sherlock laughed. "I'm joking. But I'll admit I would like to do . . . stuff. Do you think we'll do it every night? It seems like we pretty much have so far."

John swatted his arm. "Don't tease me like that," he laughed. "And now that the relationship is new that's perfectly normal," John said.

"So you're saying eventually we'll get sick of it. I find that a bit hard to believe. I really, really like doing stuff with you. I think about it a lot," Sherlock said quietly. He reached over and stroked the top of John's hand for a minute. "Let's try one new thing every day until we run out of new things to try."

"We won't get sick of it," John said. "But maybe just a bit more calm. And what did you have in mind tonight?"

"That sounds reasonable, although I hope you don't mean it as an insult. It's hard for me to be calm about it because it's new and well, exciting, obviously. Plus I do feel a little more anxious when my parents are home. Which they sadly will be tonight. So I confess I don't really have a specific plan. I didn't realise that was my job -- I thought I was just choosing and paying for dinner. I didn't realise I had to choose the sex stuff, too," Sherlock said smiling.

"Only because you brought up something new!" John laughed.

"Well, what new is there besides you know what? Can you think of others things?" Sherlock hoped that whatever John said was based on his imagination and not things he had done before with the girls, even though he knew there wasn't really any way to be sure.

"Hmm. . .we could try a new position," John said quietly. "Like both of us sucking at the same time?"

Sherlock's face flushed. Even though he was the one who had brought this up, he was the one who asked the question, but suddenly he felt quite shy. "Okay, we could try that." He drank some water. "Any other ideas?" he asked tentatively.

"We could go to the shed and I could suck you off on the table," John smiled. 

"John Watson!" Sherlock said, slapping John's hand. "You are a real pervert! However, that does sound pretty hot actually." He was thinking about it, and he knew he would think about it later as well.

"Don't call me a pervert and then say it's hot," John scolded. "Besides, you said you wanted ideas. Why don't you give up a couple?"

"Well, you know I want to do the whole thing," he said, looking at the table. He felt awkward -- talking like this was so much easier to do via text. "We could take a shower together."

"You said not counting the whole thing," John reminded him. "But yes, that would be nice. I thought . . . when I came back in today . . .I thought you were going to offer," he admitted. 

"But you seemed upset and it seemed odd to think of sex stuff when you're upset. You could have asked if you had wanted to," Sherlock said. "Are we going to sleep in your room tonight?"

"I know, I didn't think about it until after. And if you don't mind," John nodded. "You can walk me to my door and I can invite you in," he murmured. 

"Fine, the door step will be your bedroom door then. Should I stop in my room and get our supplies?" Sherlock said, cheekily.

John grinned. "Can't have you sprinting across the hall naked," he teased. 

"Even the condoms?" Sherlock said sheepishly.

John nodded. "Better safe than sorry. We can be ready, whatever happens," he smiled. 

Sherlock felt his cock twinge a little and hoped that his face didn't give it away. "We should just put some in your drawer and some in mine. I guess we should get another bottle of the lube." He moved in his chair. He put two blintzes on his plate and tried to focus on those, but he whispered, "This talk is kind of getting me a bit worked up. I suppose I am a pervert then."

"Well, not as much as me," John whispered back. "Because now I'm thinking about crawling under the table and sucking you off right here."

"John," Sherlock said softly. It was a mix of shock and curiosity. "I kind of don't want you to stop saying things like that, but maybe you should or I'm going to get a hard-on right now."

"Sorry," John said. "I'm all talk. I don't think I could ever actually do that."

"I wouldn't want you to really do it," Sherlock said, still looking at the table. "I like that it's just private between you and me." He finished his food. "Seriously, you'd better eat up because now I'm thinking of all this stuff and I'm finding it difficult to stay here."

John smirked. "I think I'd like to take my time. I don't want to get sick," he teased, slowing down dramatically. 

"You're cruel to me," Sherlock said. "I'll try to think of something else then. Should we talk about chemistry?"

"See how it's not so fun? Just take deep breaths," he teased. 

"That's not fair, we weren't in public then. I don't care if these people know you're my boyfriend but I don't really want them to see with me with an erection." Sherlock took a few deep breaths. "Fine, I'm fine now, in fact I've gone off the whole idea of sex at all. Is that what you wanted?" he said, now looking at John and grinning stupidly. 

"I'm sure I can change your mind," John said confidently. 

"Finish your food, please," Sherlock said, desperately.

"I've been done for ten minutes," John said smiling. 

"You're horrible sometimes," Sherlock said. He stood up and took the bill to the counter as John followed. The young man came and Sherlock paid him. "How's school?" Sherlock asked him.

"It's okay. Thanks for your help," the server said, handing Sherlock his change. Sherlock put it in the tip jar and he and John headed out.

"Did you like the food?" he asked John.

John nodded. "It was really good," he said. "We should go again soon."

"We could treat ourselves once a week," Sherlock said. He hooked his arm through John's as they walked. "Is this okay?" he asked.

"I prefer holding your hand," John said, maneuvering to do just that. 

Sherlock smiled. They didn't talk anymore as they walked home holding hands. Sherlock unlocked the door and led John upstairs to his room. "Wait here then," Sherlock said and nipped to his room to get his pajamas and the things from his drawer. He went back to John's door and said, "I had a nice time on our date." Then he leaned in and gave John a short kiss.

"I did too," John said, hesitating before pushing the door open. He couldn't help grinning. "Care to come inside?" he murmured.

"Perhaps I shall," Sherlock said stepping in, "You seem safe enough. I don't think I'll be in any danger."

John shut the door and locked it. "I'm perfectly trustworthy," he grinned. 

"Well, I'm quite a shy boy," Sherlock said, sitting down on the bed. "I hope you don't plan to take advantage of my inexperience."

"Shy? Not you -- coming into my room like this and with lube and condoms no less!" John teased, climbing onto his lap. 

Sherlock laughed. "Oh yeah. That kind of blows my cover, doesn't it? Well, young man, you might as well know the truth: I am a sex addict. Are you sure you still want me here?" He laughed as he was speaking. 

"How wonderful! I've been looking for a new addiction to replace my smoking habit -- I was doing four packs an hour so I hope you can keep up," John laughed. 

"Good then, we shall make an excellent partnership," Sherlock said, grabbing John and pulling him down on the bed. He crawled on top of him, straddling his legs. He looked down and smiled. "I think you're very handsome, John."

"You're not so bad yourself," John smiled. He massaged Sherlock's hips lightly as he sat on top of John. 

"No you are," Sherlock said, leaning over and pinning John's arms above his head. "I think you must agree that I know more about the world than you so my opinion on this issue is more likely to be right. Your face is very nice to look at and your body is strong and very sexy. So instead of arguing, why don't you just beg me to kiss you?"

"Because you are sexier than I am -- tall, handsome, mysterious," John smiled. "And I won't kiss you until you agree!"

"I am definitely taller and, yes, I'm quite handsome, but I'm afraid when it comes to mystery, you win that one. I'm just straight up strange, but you are mysterious. You appear to be one way but you are much more complicated than that. I am very lucky to have met you. So Mr Handsome and Mysterious, I am going to kiss you now even though you have yet to beg me," Sherlock said before slowly lowering his head and kissing John's mouth. 

"Please," John murmured against his lips. "Please kiss me."

Sherlock's kiss was soft and slow and long. He was much more confident tonight; he just wanted to make John feel nice. He wanted to show John how much he meant to him. He kissed John's neck, sucking the skin into his mouth and sneaking his tongue to his ear.

John moaned softly before biting his lip. "Do I have to be quiet?" he whispered. 

Sherlock looked up at the clock. "To be honest, I'm surprised they're not home yet. You don't have to be silent but they could be home anytime so let me know if you hear the door."

"Like I can concentrate on the door," John chuckled softly. 

"Well, unless you're screaming your head off, I'll notice. I know every sound in this house and will hear them straight away. Wait a minute," Sherlock let go of John's arms but stayed straddling John as he sat up. He got out his phone and texted quickly. He set the phone down on the bed and began kissing John's neck again. A few minutes later his phone vibrated. He checked it and said, "Okay, they won't be home for another hour and a half. So feel free to scream all you need to." He scooted down and began unbuckling John's jeans.

John wondered if they suspected what was going on but kept that thought to himself. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched. "What exactly are you planning that will have me screaming?" He grinned.

"I'm not trying to make you scream, I'm just saying you have the freedom to do so if you choose," Sherlock said. He now had John's jeans off but left his pants. He climbed back onto John and slid his hands under his jumper. He rubbed John's chest but didn't put any of his weight on John's body. Leaning over, he kissed John and then slid one of his hands down to palm John's cock through his pants. 

As they kissed and John writhed into his hand for more, he brought his own hands to Sherlock's trouser button and started pulling it open, tugging them downwards. 

Sherlock slipped his hand into John's pants. His cock was getting hard and it was warm. It felt familiar, it was like he recognised it. He began to stroke it softly and could feel himself exhale into John's ear with the rhythm of his hand's movement. He let John slip his trousers down but he didn't want to let John go. Eventually he did and lay down next to him so they could both take off their clothes.

"Are we trying something new?" John asked as he tossed his jumper onto the ground and slid out of his pants.

"Yes," said Sherlock. "Let's do the whole thing." Why not say it? he thought. If John didn't want to today, that was fine, but Sherlock was also worried that he'd get more anxious the longer they waited.

"Really?" John asked quietly, looking right into Sherlock's eyes. "Okay," he nodded.

"We don't have to -- I just thought I'd say it to see how you responded. Are you sure you want to try?" Sherlock, doing his best to not look away.

John nodded. "I have been since the first day really," he said.

"Let's try it. If either one of us wants to stop, all we have to do is say and then we stop and no one feels bad, okay?" Sherlock said. He felt a mix of nerves and excitement, but the excitement was stronger and growing. He turned to face John and kissed his mouth. "Do you want to do it to me or me to you? You know I've not done either so you pick which we do."

"Um, I liked when you were doing the finger thing . . ." John said. "But if you want me to because I have before -- sort of -- that's fine too."

"I'll try first," Sherlock said. He sat up and moved the lube and condoms closer. He lay back down and slid on top of John. He began kissing John again, harder and longer than before. His hand went back down to John's cock, brushing his own as it did, and he began stroking him. "Don't worry about anything, just relax," Sherlock said to John and probably to himself as well.

"I trust you," John said, his stomach flipping with nerves.

"I love you," Sherlock said softly. He continued to move his hand on John. John's excitement made his own grow. Their hips were moving, and this created a friction against Sherlock's cock. He could feel his breathing and his heart beat growing faster.

He reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube. He poured some into his hand and went back to John's cock, slicking it. Then he rubbed his balls, all the time watching John's face. "I'm going to do the finger now, okay?" he whispered.

John bit his lip as Sherlock touched him all over. His stomach was flipping wildly and he was panting softly. He could only nod for Sherlock, his fingers curling against the bed.

Sherlock hovered his finger over John's hole. When John nodded he first pressed against it and then slowly pushed in. He didn't stop this time; just moving it as slowly as possible, he pushed in. "Use your hand to touch yourself, do it steady but not too quick. I'll move with you," he instructed. 

"Okay," John said quietly, gripping his cock and stroking steadily. It felt good, like the last time, and he hoped when more came it would be the same.

Sherlock mimicked the rhythm of John's hand with his finger, moving in and out. He could feel his own cock ache and his hips moved a little as well. After a few minutes, Sherlock whispered, "I'm going to do two now, tell me if it hurts at all." As he pulled his finger out, he pushed two in again slowly before slowly going back to John's rhythm. "Is this okay?"

John bit his lip at the burn, but it was nothing unbearable. "Just move, please," he moaned softly. He knew this part needed to be done but couldn't wait to feel Sherlock himself.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a minute and pictured his cock moving into John like his fingers were. He felt ready to try it. He remembered the condoms but then realised he wasn't quite sure how to put one on. He hadn't seen that in any videos. He said, "John, I want to try now but I've got to put on a condom and I'm not sure I know how to. I'm sorry I'm an idiot. Can you help me?" He slowly pulled out his fingers and sat up, getting out a condom and staring at it stupidly.

John gasped softly at the sudden emptiness but sat up and nodded. "Of course," he murmured. He took the condom and tore it open, lining it onto the head of Sherlock's cock and rolled it on. "Just like that," John said quietly, kissing his belly.

"Thanks," Sherlock mumbled, feeling embarrassed. He swallowed hard and said, "Lie back down." He crawled on top of John, kissed him on the mouth and softly said, "Go back to what you were doing." He pressed his finger slowly into John again, to try to go back to the moment before the interruption. He lowered his hips nearer to John and them -- this is what it'd be like except it wouldn't be his finger. He moved his hand to hold his cock and lined it up to John's hole. He looked up at John's face; he kept watching as he ever so slowly started to push. He was just a little bit in when he stopped and said, "Is it okay?"

John's mouth fell open in a silent moan as he was properly stretched open for Sherlock. "Yes," he breathed finally, meeting Sherlock's eyes. The burning feeling had increased but at the same time his body ached for more.

Once Sherlock met John's eyes and knew he was okay, he started to feel almost overwhelmed by the feeling -- the tightness of John's body around him. He wasn't confident that he could last long but it didn't matter, he pushed himself further into John and it felt so good. His hips needed to move and even though his body was telling him to let go and just thrust, he did his best to move slowly, rocking further into John. "God, John," he exhaled, "God, it feels good, it's . . ." but that's all he could say as the heat was building within him.

John moaned with each movement, aware of every inch that Sherlock moved. "It's so . . ." John groaned, starting to move a bit with Sherlock. His body felt full and hot and out of his control. "God . . ."

John's noises and movements were almost too much for Sherlock to handle; he literally could not believe that it was possible to feel so much pleasure. "John, I can't . . . I need to move more," he tried to say as his hips seemed to move without his control. He was now thrusting. His body felt so hot, he could feel sweat on his forehead. "God, John," he moaned; he tried to memorise the feeling because he knew it wasn't going to last much longer.

"That's okay . . .yes," John moaned, pulling him down to kiss his lips. "Kiss me, please," he begged softly, bucking to keep in time with him. Perhaps it was because he loved Sherlock so much but this felt so incredible, physically and mentally and just -- in every way. Every nerve was alive and pulsing with pleasure.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed John's mouth and it felt like they were connected in every single way two people could connect. He knew he was going to come and he tried to speak but he couldn't. Instead, he just let his body move and then it happened, a great tension that went from the top of his head to the tip of his toes and then the huge release. He called John's name, his eyes squeezed shut and his body froze for what seemed like forever. And then he could move again and he opened his eyes. He looked at John, whose face was flushed, and said, "Make yourself come while I'm still inside." He sucked John's neck before resting his head on the bed next to his ear, which he breathed into as John stroked himself.

John groaned when Sherlock pushed in the last time, hitting a bit deeper than he expected. He snaked a hand between them and stroked himself, coming all over their stomachs seconds later. He whimpered Sherlock's name as he tightened around him, pulling him in a bit more and panting as the waves subsided. "Oh, Sherlock..." he breathed quietly.

Sherlock lifted his hand to John's head and turned it so they were looking at each other. "Please tell me I didn't hurt you. It felt so good to me but tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay," John assured him. "It felt good. Very different but good." He smiled and kissed him softly. "You were so good."

"I know it didn't last very long, but it was almost too good. Thank you, John, thank you for doing that with me," he covered John's face with little kisses. He shifted his body a little and he slipped out of John. "That felt weird," he said, sitting up and taking off the condom. He tied it up and grabbed some tissues to wrap it up and stuck it in the bin. "We'll have to figure out what to do with that later," he said, blushing. "Are you sure everything's okay? I feel kind of funny now, different, I guess." He lay back down next to John and curled into him.

John realised suddenly that this was Sherlock's very first time. "I promise I'm okay. It was perfect and good. Did you? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I liked it. I loved it, it felt so . . . good, better than good but I don't know the right word. Intense. We were so . . . connected. It was . . . ," Sherlock felt stupid that he couldn't make the words to properly explain. He looked at John and smiled.

"Connected," John smiled. "Yes. Exactly." He kissed the top of Sherlock's head. "I'm glad I shared that with you, that you let me be your first."

"And now I'm your first as well, like that, I mean," Sherlock said sheepishly. "Now you'll always remember me."

"I hope you'll never be just a memory," John said quietly. 

"I didn't mean it like that," Sherlock said, even though he thought maybe he did. He had never trusted anyone like he trusted John, but Sherlock had no experience in good things lasting very long. "I just mean now we've got that forever, no matter what else happens." He fiddled with John's hair. "Do you think you'll want to do it to me sometime?"

"Yes," John said without hesitating. "I want to do everything with you."

"I'm glad because I'd like to see what it feels like," Sherlock stretched a little on the bed. "You've made a mess on us. Let's tidy up and get ready for bed before my parents get back." He stood up and stretched again. "I'm going to go get some water. Do you want me to bring up some biscuits as well?"

John shook his head. "Water is fine," he smiled.  He sat up and bit his lip, shifting a bit. "Will you sleep in here with me? I don't want to sleep alone after that."

"Obviously. I assumed I would, I guess. I want to be by you when I go to sleep and when I wake up as well," he said. He slipped on his pajama bottoms and went into the bathroom. He wiped his belly with a flannel, washed his face and brushed his teeth. He looked at his face in the mirror to try to decide if he looked different. He didn't think he did, but he knew he was different. Before he went downstairs, he called into John, "I'm out of the bathroom."

He left a note on the table for his parents saying he and John had gone to bed and would be going to college in the morning. Then he grabbed two bottles of water and some biscuits and went back upstairs. He got into John's bed, set his alarm and put it on the table, and waited for John.

When John was done cleaning up he looked at himself in the mirror, his cheeks flushing as he replayed what they had just done. He bit his lip and grinned, leaving for his room. 

"I brought up some biscuits anyway, just in case you change your mind," Sherlock said. He nibbled on one. Then he added, "John, we just had sex, remember?"

John laughed softly. "Yes, I do remember," he said.

"Are you sore now? Be honest so I know what to expect."

John nodded. "I can't sit right, and I feel like I'm walking a bit funny, but it's not bad. It's not unbearable."

"Well, I guess that makes sense. I'm sorry you're sore," he said. "But I'm still glad we did it."

"Don't be sorry," John said. "I'm glad too." He leaned over and rest against Sherlock. "I couldn't stop grinning in the bathroom." 

"I know," Sherlock said almost like a little boy, "It's kind of like the most exciting secret I've ever had." They heard the door shut downstairs. "Hurry, get into bed," Sherlock said, laughing. "Hurry or Santa won't come." Now he was really laughing at himself. "Oh my god, John, I think I'm drunk on love again." 

"I don't care if Santa comes -- only if you do," he snorted, covering even his head with the blankets.

"John, I was going to kiss you but that joke has definitely put me off. I think I'm going to have to go into my room where it's a little more civilised." He slid under the covers as well. "Your feet are cold!"

John pressed them into Sherlock's thighs on purpose. "You're not going to leave me. I'll only follow you and do sexy things until you come back to me."

"Turn around and spoon me," Sherlock demanded. "Press against me and I'll imagine you're going to do it to me."

John scooted over to him and pressed against him and wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist, burying his face into the back of Sherlock's neck. 

"Are you going to get hard again?" Sherlock whispered.

"Not if we're just laying here," John said. "But you'll be the first to know," he smiled. 

Sherlock laughed. "I'm glad you're here, you big goof." He wiggled a little, pressing into John. "Now are you hard? I'm just teasing. We should go to sleep. We're going to college tomorrow, don't forget."

"You're out of control! I can't keep up with these constant changes in your libido," John chuckled. 

Sherlock slid around to face John. "Are you saying you do want to do something else? We'd have to be quiet. Do you want to go to sleep or do something else? Tell me."

"I was teasing, like you were. At least I thought you were. We can sleep," John said. He wouldn't be opposed to another round but they had done so much already, his parents were home and they did have to get up early. 

"You shouldn't tease someone who just lost his virginity. I was trying to be the sensible one but then you go had to go pressing against me and all. . . cruel."

"You wiggled and demanded I become hard for you!" John said. 

"First of all, I only wiggled because I just had sex for the first time. That obviously makes one wiggle -- I read it in a book as a symptom. Secondly, I didn't demand you get hard, I was just asking. Because I'm a curious person, I like learning about the world around me especially when that world consists of an erection pressed against my person. So do not blame me for your cruelty. I'm the victim here of your vicious sex games."

John couldn't help snorting out a laugh. "You're so dramatic," he grinned. He leaned forward and kissed his lips softly.  

"You love it," Sherlock said, "I know you do because you just let me have sex with you. Remember?" Sherlock closed his eyes. "I'm thinking about it right now." He crumpled up his face then looked scared then he coughed and then started snoring. He opened his eyes. "That was me remembering it."

John rolled his eyes and shoved his arm playfully. "I think I'm going to go to your room and leave you here," he laughed. 

"No, don't or I'll really get dramatic," Sherlock said, laughing. "Okay, stop now, we need to get sleepy. Do you want to play a word game or something? What do you usually do when you need to get sleepy?"

"I usually just lay in the dark and think about things," John said. "What do you do?"

"Things? That's a little vague, don't you think? That won't work for me, I need something that distracts my brain which is why I listen to the radio. Since you refuse to play the radio, you'll need to help me. We could play a game or you could tell me a story. Yeah, tell me a bedtime story, please," Sherlock curled up and snuggled into John's chest.

"I don't know any good ones," John said. "Let's play a game. I'll trace words on your back and you have to guess what they are."

"All right," Sherlock said and turned over.

John started tracing words, at first easy things like their names and things he was feeling. Then, he moved on to things he remembered from his chemistry homework and titles of books he'd read. He could hear Sherlock becoming drowsy, but he kept it up until Sherlock's breathing was steady and quiet. He closed his own eyes and replayed the night, thought about school tomorrow, and finally wondered what his dad was doing in the house alone. He thought about talking to Harry again but he'd give it a couple days. He fell asleep on that note. 


	16. Back to College

Sherlock awoke four minutes before his alarm went off. He opened his eyes and was immediately confused as to why he was sleeping in Mycroft's bed. Within seconds, everything came back to him and he turned over to look at John sleeping.

"John," he whispered as he lightly touched his arm to wake him. "John, wake up. We're in your bed where we did sex last night and now we have to wake up for college."

John took a deep breath, yawned loudly and opened his eyes. He blinked at Sherlock and smiled. "Morning," he hummed, yawning a second time. 

"Good morning," Sherlock said, kissing John on the forehead. "I'm going to get in the shower and then I'll make us tea. Do you want something for breakfast? We've got fruit and yoghurt, but I could make you a proper breakfast if you want." 

"Do you have any cereal?" John asked, sitting up and rubbing his face. 

"We probably have some muesli, maybe. If not, we can get some on the way home. Do you want to make some sandwiches for lunch as well?"

"Okay," John nodded. "I can make them while I wait for the shower," he offered. 

"You needn't make one for me. I'll take an apple. My parents have gone. Put the kettle on, would you?" Sherlock grabbed some clothes from his room and jumped in the shower.

John put on pajamas and went down to the kitchen, trying to feel at ease, as it this was his home. He started the kettle and packed himself a proper lunch, putting it in the fridge again next to the apple for Sherlock. 

Sherlock came down, clean and dressed. He poured himself a cup of tea and flipped through the newspaper as John showered. Then he remembered the condom so he grabbed a baggie, went up to John's room to retrieve it and stuck it into his bag to get rid. They were going to have to come up with some plan for dealing with this if they were going to keep having sex. Sherlock didn't really want his mum or the housecleaner emptying the bin in John's room and finding used condoms. Even though they did make the bed less messy, they were pretty gross even to Sherlock whose mess it was: it was definitely be unfair to make someone else have to deal with them.

John went up and took a quick shower, packed his bag and came back down, stuffing his lunch in there as well. "I waited for you to have breakfast." 

"That's kind of sweet early in the morning," Sherlock said. He had made two new cups of tea and slid one over to John. He looked through the cupboard for the muesli and then set it, a bowl and spoon and the milk next to John's mug and got himself a banana and yoghurt. He scooped a spoonful of yoghurt into his mouth and then said, "I've put the condom in my bag but it's gross and I don't want to have to do that every day."

"Why is it in your bag? Just wrap it in toilet paper and throw it out!"

"I was thinking of looking at it under the microscope," Sherlock said. He waited for just a minute to see the look on John's face. "I'm joking -- don't be disgusting. I don't want it in the bin at the house. I don't want someone finding it. It'd be . . . embarrassing. I guess I could wrap it up in something else so it wasn't noticeable. I could cram it into an empty fag packet."

"You just have to hide it! Bury under some other rubbish," John laughed. "And there wouldn't be anything interesting to see -- just little swimmers," he laughed louder.

"All right, Mister Condom Disposal Expert," Sherlock said. "I just got paranoid, I guess. Are you almost ready? I want to stop at the news agents on the way in."

"I'm not an expert, I'm just saying," John said defensively. "And yes, I'm ready."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be sarcastic. I guess I'm used to being on my own before college. Plus I won't lie -- I hate to be reminded that you've done sex stuff with other people."

"I'm sorry," John said, looking up at Sherlock. "I try not to talk about it."

"You don't talk about it, which I appreciate," Sherlock said. "The problem is it's still in my head. It's just me being an idiot. Come on, let's go."  
  
Sherlock and John walked to school, stopping at the news agents to pick up cigarettes. As they left the shop, Sherlock said, "We need to get keys cut for you for the house. Remind me on the walk home." They each went to their morning classes and met again in the hallway at lunch time.

"Hey," John said, pulling his lunch out of his bag. "I did more homework than I needed to. How were your classes?"

"See, I must be having a good effect on your coursework. My classes were tedious, as usual. I do hope uni is more interesting," he bit into his apple and chewed it slowly. "Did you see any of your rugby friends in class?" 

"A couple of them, yeah," John looked over at him. "Why?"

"I don't know why really . . . I just think about how much my life has changed in the last couple weeks, but no one knows because no one knew me in the first place. I guess I just wondered how it'd be for you," Sherlock said.

"They've asked where I'd been the last couple days but I just said I was out sick," John said. "That was all, really. It's not like we're all really close."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said, "I don't mean to be nosy. I'm going out for a cigarette. Do you want to come or do you want to finish your food?"

"Don't apologise, you didn't do anything wrong. I'll finish up and wait for you here. I'll walk you to your next class," he smiled. 

Sherlock smiled back. "All right then, see you in a minute."  
  
Sherlock walked out of the school, through the gates and a little bit up the side road. He leaned up against a street lamp and lit a cigarette. He took out his phone and looked at the news headlines. He glanced up to see two lads from school coming his way, so he crossed over to the other side of the road. He heard them say something to him, he couldn't make out the exact words, but he got the gist as one made a wanking sign and the other laughed. He really hoped uni would be better than this. Were he and John the only non-idiots who attended this place? Once they had passed out of his sight, he threw his cigarette end and walked back to meet John in the canteen.

John had just finished up when Sherlock came back in. "Ready?" he smiled. 

Sherlock looked at John and was glad for him. "Yeah, come on, I've got English next," he said as they walked towards Sherlock's class. "Are you looking forward to chemistry then? At least we'll be in the same class," he said. "You don't have to sit by me, you know, if you want a little break or want to avoid questions from other people. It's okay."

"Questions?" John asked. "We've been sitting together since the tutoring started and it didn't matter then. Did something happen?" 

"I'm just saying before technically I was just your tutor, but now I'm more and even though I know that's private stuff, you do live with me now. So if someone were to give you a hard time about us, well, you can't really play it down if we actually are living together, can you? I just don't want you to have to deal with any more shit because of me. It's great when we're alone, but at school, we're not and I'd hate for you to be free of hassle from your dad just to have it be replaced with hassle from kids here," Sherlock really meant was he was saying. People were horrible, people were horrible about Sherlock but he was used to that. John wasn't, and he just wanted to make the rest of this year as easy for John as it could.

John leaned up and pecked a quick kiss on his lips, taking his hand as they walked towards Sherlock's class. "I love you and I am not ashamed to be with you. What my father did -- that's done now and I don't care what these people think or say," he said, stopping outside of the classroom. "Now, I am going to math and I will see you in chemistry."

Sherlock scanned the hallway as John walked away. He wasn't quite sure about what had just happened. He went into class, feeling like everyone was looking at him even though he was looking at the floor and didn't look at anyone's face. He sat down and opened his notebook. He stared at the blank page.

He did not care what people thought of him -- in fact he found that assuming people thought he was a freak was usually the best bet so that when it proved true, he was prepared. But John was different; people didn't think he was a freak, people liked John. John had hidden his feelings about being gay for so long -- from his father but from his friends as well, even from himself. What would his friends think? And what would his friends think about John being with Sherlock? That's the part that worried him the most -- that John would be hurt yet again, physically or emotionally, because of Sherlock.

John ignored the looks he got as he went to his next class. He knew the risks -- that people would talk about him, tease him, who knew what else -- but he didn't care anymore. He'd let it all go. They had what? One month left? It wouldn't matter what people thought now. The rugby season was over, and whatever friends he had were through common interest, sports or classes were all they really ever shared. Sherlock was more important to him than any of them. 

Sherlock hadn't really heard a word of the lecture, which wasn't a problem as he had read Frankenstein multiple times already. He couldn't stop thinking about John, worrying about John. Was this a problem? Should he be so worried -- was it good for him? Was it good for John? He remembered what John had said when Sherlock had talked about his father: John could handle it and Sherlock's worry was making it worse. Making anything worse was exactly what Sherlock didn't want to do. Was this normal, was this what "love" was -- being so obnoxiously worried about the other person all the time? This seemed like a problem with Sherlock, not with John, perhaps not even with love. He needed to grip on himself.

He snuck his phone out.

_xx SH_

John pulled out his phone to check the message when Anderson, a boy on his rugby team, snatched the phone. "That your boyfriend?" he sneered. 

"Yes," John said honestly. "Now give that back." He stared intently.

Anderson fiddled with phone for a few minutes, enjoying John's upset, which grew by the minute. Eventually he just pulled a face and handed back the phone. "Just teasing, mate."

John rolled his eyes and checked his texts, flushing when he saw that Anderson had sent a message to Sherlock. 

_Fuck me hard, baby. -JW_

John punched his arm, apologised to the teacher when he got yelled at, assuring her there was no problem. Then he typed quickly. 

_I'm sorry. Anderson got my phone, that wasn't me! -JW_

_I'm so sorry, Sherlock. -JW_

_He thinks he's funny, I'm sorry. -JW_

John was in a right panic as he waited for a response, sending messages quickly and willing Sherlock to understand. 

Sherlock's phone was vibrating furiously. What was John doing? Did he not go to class? He read the texts in the reverse order and felt sick when he saw them all.

But surprisingly, he wasn't sick with worry over John.

John's kiss in the hallway meant that he had decided to out them and even though that had worried Sherlock, he was supposed to trust John, right, trust his decisions? So they were now out at college, fine. But now John was telling his friends about them, about the sex stuff? And why was John's friend trying to be 'funny' about it? What had John said? Did he tell them about Sherlock's inexperience? Did John describe it as 'funny'?

Sherlock's stomach hurt. He snatched up his stuff, stood up and said, "Excuse me, I'm not well" and left the room. He kept walking -- down the hall, through main corridor and out the side door.

John held the phone tight in his hand, waiting nervously for a text but none came. He was starting to feel a bit sick. He sent another text. 

_Sherlock, he was being an idiot. Please. I'm so sorry. -JW_

There was still no text from Sherlock as the bell rang and John rushed to chemistry, looking in the halls for Sherlock. Maybe he was in the bathroom? John got into class but Sherlock was not there. He was starting to panic now. Had someone hurt him because of the kiss? No one had been mean to John about it -- why would they bother Sherlock? He was breathing too hard and unable to concentrate. 

_Where did you go? Are you okay? I'm worried. -JW_

Sherlock walked to the key cutting shop and got John's keys. He walked home, let himself in and went straight to his bedroom, stepping over the post. He lay down on his bed and took out his phone.

_I don't like what happened. I went home. SH_

Then he added.

_Take good notes in chemistry. Front door is unlocked for you. SH_

Sherlock knew they'd have to talk when John got back, but he didn't want to. He wasn't ready because he didn't know what he wanted to say. He wasn't even sure what exactly had happened and why exactly he was upset. But he was. So he turned on his radio and tried to go to sleep for a bit. He slipped into his own bed, which was better than being in Mycroft's. 

_What happened exactly? Anderson? I'm sorry! -JW_

John pinched his nose and had to really force himself to stay for the rest of class. But he was hardly listening and definitely not talking notes, his mind stuck at the house with Sherlock and his stomach twisting uncomfortably the whole time. When chemistry was over he hurried out of the class and was going to take a cab back when he realised he didn't have any money. Sighing he took off, running back to Sherlock's.

When he got there he went straight up to Sherlock's room and knocked on the door. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned over drowsily but didn't get up. "John, you probably want to talk but I don't want to. I don't know what I want to say. But you needn't worry. You should have stayed at college." 

"School's over, Sherlock. I do want to talk. Can we, please?" John asked.

Sherlock looked at the clock; he must have fallen asleep after all. Usually that solved his problems. This time it made it worse: he hadn't thought at all about what he wanted to say and now John was at the door asking to talk. He still didn't get up.

"John, how can I talk when I don't know what to say? Be reasonable," he said, "If you have something you want to say, go ahead and say it, but I've got nothing." 

"I-I . . . can I come in, please?" John asked quietly.

Sherlock thought for a moment. The right thing to do would be to say yes. Yet that's not how it had ever worked. Before, when he got upset, he went to his room and shut the door and that was that. No one ever asked to come in. Everyone just left him alone. That's the way he knew to handle things.

But John handled things differently apparently. So Sherlock did the right thing and said yes.

John pushed open the door and came in, but he stood by the door nervously. "Um . . . can you tell me why you're upset?" It felt like a stupid thing to ask, but he did anyway.

"No," Sherlock said. "Because I don't know exactly. Hence my not having anything to say right now." It was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I'm trying to be honest."

"Is it because of what Anderson said? The baby part? Or how vulgar it was?" John asked, biting his lip. "He just took my phone from me, I swear. . ."

"I just --” Sherlock said. "Yes, that's what has upset me. The whole thing upset me. I'm sorry that this has happened. I don't know how to fix it at the moment. I'm sorry."

"Um," John didn't know what else to apologise for. "I'll be in my room then," he said quietly, leaving and going to his room.

Sherlock stood up after John left and locked his door as quietly as he could. It made him feel better. He lay back down on the bed and picked up his phone.

_I don't understand why you told him in the first place. SH_

_Told who what? -JW_

_Told him about us. SH_

_You mean the kiss in the hall? -JW_

John hadn't realised it would bother Sherlock so much.

_No. Why did you tell him about the sex? SH_

_I didn't! Why the hell would I do that? That's our private stuff, Sherlock. I would never tell anyone.-JW_

Sherlock looked at the message. Was John lying? He really did not think that John would lie. _But that's the thing about liars, isn't it_ , the voice in his head said.

_Then how did he know? Why else would he say that? SH_

_Because we're together and he's an idiot! Sherlock, that's how they joke around. When Greg started seeing his girlfriend they painted a face on the rugby ball and kept throwing it at his crotch, pretending it was her! They see a couple and because they're guys they wonder who's getting some.-JW_

_I don't like that. SH_

_I'm a guy and I don't do that. SH_

_Well you're not the type. I'm not either. Greg never said things like that. Some guys are just like that. Some girls are too. -JW_

Of course, Sherlock knew that. That's why he didn't like people like that. Well, why he didn't really like people in general. That's why he didn't have friends -- to avoid things like this. But here it was anyway, despite his avoidance strategy.

_That is why I do not have friends who are like that. SH_

_I promise they won't get my phone again. -JW_

_That's not the point. I made a choice not to be involved with people like that. And now I am. SH_

_You're not involved with them! I'm sorry. -JW_

_I now have a text in my phone from one of them so yes, I am involved, aren't I? SH_

_Not really. It won't happen again. -JW_

_I don't know, John. This upsets me and I don't know how to deal with it. I'm sorry. SH_

John blinked at the message, his eyes burning now.

_Okay. -JW_

He vaguely wondered where he would live if Sherlock broke up with him. His chest tightened at the thought of that.

_Don't do that. SH_

_What? -JW_

_I know you: stop worrying this means you'll have to leave. This is just a problem we're having, that's all. I don't know how to resolve it yet. But we will. SH_

_Don't yell at me. What do you want me to think? You won't even talk to me, you locked your bloody door after I left.-JW_

_I am not yelling, I just prefer to text. All right, come to my room. I don't want to talk in yours. SH_

Sherlock stood up, unlocked his door and then sat back down on the bed.

John sighed and considered not going. Didn't Sherlock realise that things like this were going to happen now? He got up and went to Sherlock's room, opening the door and leaning against the frame.

"I don't know how to handle being upset," Sherlock said, "so sometimes I go away from it. But no matter what, I will never make you go away so if there's a problem, do not start worrying you'll have nowhere to live. Please." He couldn't look up at John but he was being as sincere as he could be. "I don't know how to be around people like that. I don't want to be around people like that. But I want to be with you. And that means I might have to be around people like that. It's just hard and I don't know how to deal with it."

"I don't know how to make it better, Sherlock, I'm sorry." John leaned against the frame and watched him. "I just want you to know that I would never tell anyone about the things we do."

"So you didn't tell him I'd never done it before? You didn't laugh at me?"

"No! Sherlock -- no, I would never tell anyone that!"

Sherlock looked up at John. "I'm used to having secrets only I know. At least then I know no one will ever find out. I do trust you -- it's just that that trust wobbled a bit, I guess, because I wasn't expecting to see that in the text . . . especially after you kissed me in the hall. I wasn't expecting either of those things. I'm sorry."

"I should have told you about the kiss, I'm sorry, but I would never, ever tell anyone about the things we do or say or anything."

"It's just confusing to me," Sherlock said, "because now some of my things are your things and vice versa. I don't like people knowing anything about me, but I can't stop you telling people about you which then reveals things about me. Because there's an us. I just hadn't thought about a lot of these things before."

John nodded. "I'll be respectful of the things I say, but I know it won't be much."

"I'm sorry I left without saying," Sherlock said. "I couldn't imagine sitting in chemistry pretending I wasn't upset. I didn't know what else to do. So I did what I usually do." 

"That's okay. I was just scared," John said.

Sherlock stood up and went to his coat. "Here, keys for the house," he said, handing them to John.

"Thank you," John said quietly, taking the keys from him.


	17. All Better

Sherlock stepped closer to John. "Can we lie down on the bed, please?"

John looked up at him. "Do you need more time or anything? I don't want you to be mad at me and have me smothering you."

Sherlock reached up for John's hand. "Oh John, I was never mad at you. I was . . . afraid, upset about what happened, but not angry. I never said I was angry; I would have if I were. Please. I've tried so hard to be honest. When I said I wasn't sure what to say, I meant it. I've asked you to lie down because I want to be close to you. If you don't want to, that's okay, but please, I wouldn't ask if I didn't mean it."

"I just want to make sure. I know living together can be a bit much and if even a little bit of you wants to be left alone then I can go back to my room and let you have that so you don't resent me later."

"I want to lie down next to you," Sherlock said, "but only if you want to."

John nodded. "Okay," he said.

Sherlock held John's hand as he moved over to the bed. They lay down and Sherlock turned so John was spooning him. He held John's hand to his chest. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay," John said, speaking against the back of Sherlock's neck. "Really. I shouldn't have let him take my phone."

"It's just . . . been nice us being on our own . . . I hadn't thought about how things would be different around other people . . . I didn't plan for it . . ."

John nodded against his neck. "I know. People are going to notice and say things and it probably won't always be good. I guess since I've seen how bad it can be, nothing really will phase me."

"People have always noticed me and said things that aren't usually good. I'm used to it because those people are idiots. But this time . . . it was like you were involved, like you were one of them . . . and it upset me," Sherlock felt like his eyes were filling so he closed them tight. "It made my heart hurt." 

John kissed the back of his neck and pressed his forehead to Sherlock's skin. "I would never make fun of you, Sherlock. Ever. Not seriously and never about something like that."

"John, think of all the relationships that end horribly. Don't you think those people say 'I'll never hurt you' at the beginning? But they do hurt each other, don't they?"

John closed his eyes and sighed softly, not sure how to get through to him, to reassure him. "I love you," he said simply. 

Sherlock swallowed. "I love you, too," he said softly. "Sometimes it still feels so new, I don't know how to be . . ."

John nodded. "I know. I'm sorry something like this happened right after your first time," he mumbled. 

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock said, swallowing a little too hard. "Can we stop talking about it now?"

John nodded against his neck and didn't say anything else. 

"You should have brought up a cup of tea," Sherlock said. "You would have if you really loved me," he added, trying to lighten the mood.

John chuckled softly. "I was too busy eating all of the biscuits," he said.

Sherlock turned over to face John. He smiled at him. "I'm glad you're here."

"Even though I've eaten every biscuit in the house?" He smiled. 

"Yes, because I have a secret stash of biscuits hidden in a place you'll never ever find, so really you've only hurt yourself there -- because I shall refuse to share mine after your greedy show."

"I'll make you share your biscuits," John grinned. "With promises of kisses and glimpses at my hot body."

"You're rather full of yourself. Do you really think you can compete with biscuits?" Sherlock felt glad he could smile again.

"Um, a biscuit compared to this?" He waved his hand down his torso and grinned. "There is no contest -- I win."

"Look, would you prefer I leave you the two of you alone -- I don't want to intrude on this love affair you've got going on with your body."

John laughed. "I don't think you could stay away if I started touching myself."

"Go for it, I don't want to get between you and your true love," Sherlock rolled over and grabbed a book. "Go right ahead, I'll busy myself over here."

"You're telling me you won't touch? At all?"

"You obviously have something going on, so I wouldn't dream of butting in. I respect you too much," Sherlock said, not looking at him.

John felt a bit embarrassed but he unbuttoned his trousers, pushed his hand down there and started to stroke himself slowly. 

Sherlock kept looking at the book. He wasn't quite sure John was really doing it or was just goofing around.

John wasn't really in the mood to actually get horny after their fight, which led to a comical display. He was thrashing off of the bed and moaning, but the sound was more like he was dying a horrible death.   

Sherlock slowly turned the page of his book. "Have you finished yet?" he said. "I'd really like a cup of tea, but I don't want to interrupt."

John sighed heavily and stopped. "You make me want to tackle you down and just fight you!" John laughed. 

"Is that what you usually say when you've finished masturbating?" Sherlock said.

"Sometimes," John grumbled. 

"Interesting," Sherlock said. He picked up a pen and pretended to write on the page. "I'll make a note of that. I think I must have been doing it wrong all this time. I mainly just moan your name over and over. But your method seems much more intriguing." Sherlock set the book down and turned on his side. "Where's my tea, you silly person?" 

"I'm not getting you any tea," John pouted and crossed his arms like a child. 

"Are you always so grumpy after wanking?" Sherlock asked. "I am really learning a lot about your private pastimes this afternoon. Why don't you stop pouting and give me a little kiss, please?"

"No," John said, tilting his head up dramatically. He was having a hard time not laughing. 

"Please, please, please," Sherlock said, "I'll give you a biscuit." He was smiling and raising his eyebrows up and down.

"I don't want your secret biscuits. I'm a grown man, I'll get my own," he countered. He was biting his lip now. 

"Go ahead," Sherlock said, crawling onto John, pinning him down. "No one's stopping you."

John pushed up, failed the first time, and pushing up again harder. Sherlock was sitting in his lap for one second before he fell backwards and John was pinning him down. "I know," he said simply, grinning now. 

"Well, go on then," Sherlock said. "Quite frankly, I don't think you even know what you want right now." He didn't struggle at all.

John sat up. "I want biscuits," he said simply, climbing off of Sherlock and heading to the kitchen. 

"Will you bring up tea then?" Sherlock called.

"No!" John laughed. He found the biscuits and munched happily in the kitchen.

Sherlock went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on. "What do you want for dinner?" he asked.

John looked over at him and smiled. "I didn't know how far we were taking the joking. I would have brought you some of you hadn't come down. And you pick," he said, trying to feed Sherlock a biscuit.

"Do you want to pretend fight all evening? Just let me know." Sherlock opened the fridge. "I could make us some pasta or something. Are you ever going to cook by the way?"

"I can cook tonight. I'll make pasta with my famous sauce," John smiled.

"Sounds good. I'll do the washing up," Sherlock said. "Are we all done fighting then?"

"Who was fighting?" John grinned, rummaging around the kitchen for supplies and ingredients.

"You're confusing me," Sherlock said. "Did you bump your head or something?" Sherlock took a sip of tea.

"You did attack me," John said, starting to boil the water and working on the sauce.

"I did not," Sherlock said. "I was trying to show you love."

John had to stop himself from making a joke he knew would upset Sherlock. Instead he said, "Hmm, I don't think so."

"Well, I watched a new video before you got home and that move seemed to go over quite well in it. I'm sorry it wasn't to your taste," Sherlock flipped through the newspaper.

"Oh? What exactly are you into?" John laughed.

"I don't know. I'm approaching it like an experiment, trying new things to see how they work out. I'll remember that pinning you to the bed was unsatisfactory," Sherlock said.

"Not necessarily," John shrugged. "I was too busy thinking about biscuits," he smiled.

"Hmmm . . . I see," Sherlock said, smiling, "I shall definitely make a note of that."

John rolled his eyes playfully. "And what do you like? What should I take note of?"

"I like when you make noises and I like using my fingers on you and I think I'd like you to do that to me as well," Sherlock said, concentrating closely on the newspaper. Somehow it was easier to talk like this if he was actually looking at something else.

John looked over at him. "I will, next time. We can take turns or something like that," he smiled.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I hope your food doesn't upset my stomach."

"Hey! I'm a great cook," he said defensively.

"I'm just teasing, I'm sure you are," Sherlock said, standing up and moving to the stove. "Can I help with anything?"

"Nope," John smiled. "It'll be my treat."

"Okay then," Sherlock said. "How was chemistry by the way?" He sat back down. "Do we have a lot of homework?"

"Just a couple study guides for the upcoming exam."

"Are you nervous? Will this class keep you from going to uni or just make it easier if you do well?"

"I'm not sure. If the grade is bad enough, it might make a difference."

"Then we'll just make sure you pass," Sherlock said. "I have confidence you can do it."

"I just need to get faster."

"I can quiz you on the study guides and reward you as you improve," Sherlock said, smiling cheekily. 

"I still haven't got all the kisses from the last quiz," John teased.

"Remind me once we go to bed and I'll get caught up. Let's eat down here since you're doing a proper meal for us," Sherlock stood up and set the small table in the kitchen. He poured some water for each of them, and then sat back down. "How much longer?" he pouted. "I'm bored now."

"You can't rush perfection, Sherlock." John turned to grin at him.

"You are really in love with yourself today, aren't you?" Sherlock joked.

John shrugged. "Stop resisting it," he teased. "And please don't worry, there's some left for you, too."

"I feel like I should suggest we sleep in separate beds tonight," Sherlock laughed. "I really feel like the third wheel between you and your ego."

John laughed loudly. "He can't help himself -- he's a real showoff."

"Well, I'm only interested in John sleeping in my room -- the ego can have John's bed all to himself."

"But he loves you so much!"

Sherlock laughed at John. "He is a liar. He loves no one but John. He's probably my biggest rival -- especially because he knows better than me what kind of sex stuff John likes."

"If you're nice to him you'll find out, too," John laughed.

"John, honestly, you don't think I stroke your ego enough? I always want to kiss on you and I tell you how much I like you and how sexy you are. What else could I do? This ego seems a little out of control, if you ask me."

"It's because you hid the biscuits, obviously," John laughed, setting down a plate of pasta in front of him. "There's enough for your parents if they want any."

"Thank you," Sherlock said. He twirled the pasta on his fork. "First off, I've always had a stash of biscuits hidden in my room since long before I met you. Perhaps had you taken a different strategy, I'd have shown you -- now I'm not so sure. Secondly, that's sweet of you making extra. If they're not home before we go up, we can put it in the fridge and leave a note. But please don't have your feelings hurt when it's still there in the morning. We could take it for lunch." 

"That's okay," John said. "I won't mind. What do you think of it?"

"It's really delicious, John," Sherlock said honestly. "I don't usually make anything complicated for myself so it's really nice to have a properly cooked meal. Where did you learn to cook like this?" 

"Harry is terrible," he said simply. "But after a while we went to quick frozen dinners and things like that. It's been a while for me."

"Well, it's really nice," Sherlock said, reaching his foot under the table to touch John's. "Thanks again. This is the nicest meal I've had at home on a week night forever and ever."

As they were finishing their meal, Sherlock's parents got home.  
  
"Hello," Sherlock's mum said.

"John made us dinner. There's enough left for you if you'd like it," Sherlock said.

"That's nice," his mum said, flicking through the post.

Sherlock looked at his father. "I'll do the washing up. I'll put the leftovers in the fridge if you'd like them."  
  
Sherlock's father put the kettle on and made tea for him and his wife, before they left the kitchen.

John blinked at them and then looked down at his plate. This was almost as bad as what his father did.

Sherlock could read John's face. "I suppose there are some advantages. They leave me alone and lots of parents don't do that. It's allowed us to be together here, that's good at least. I am guessing that if something horrible happened and I needed them, they'd probably be there to help. . ."

John looked up. "He didn't even look at you when you spoke. I don't understand," he said quietly.

"They're really busy with work, it's stressful and it's on their minds all the time, I know," Sherlock said. Was he really defending his parents? "That's just how it's always been, most people in our family are like that, I guess. They don't really waste time on people who don't interest them. I'm like that really. That's how I feel about the kids at college."

"But you're their son," John said quietly.

"True, but that was purely just a matter of chance, I suppose. We don't always have to like the people we're related to, do we?"

"Well no, but . . . I don't know," John shrugged. It was sad, but he didn't know how to explain it.

"What about your dad? Or Harry? It doesn't seem you like either of them."

"I don't," John said. "But if they called or came to find me I would talk to them, even if it was bad."

"Well, they talk to me. I mean, I don't really talk to them, do I? Anyway, I don't know what to say. It's just the way we are."

John nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Look, I thought we weren't going to talk about family. Because if you want to talk about this subject, I'll probably ask if you've talked to Harry again. Still want to talk about family?" Sherlock said.

"I haven't since that day -- but she doesn't live with me," John countered.

"That's beside the point. We have moved past talking about my family to talking about yours." He took a drink. "You know you could always send her a text if you want to reach out but are worried that your anger might erupt. Texting is good for uncomfortable conversations," Sherlock said. "But I won't hassle you about it."

"I will," John promised. "And I wasn't hassling you," he said.

"I didn't mean that, I promise," Sherlock said. "Look, I know my family is not normal. Yours scares me a little and I don't always know what to say and I worry that I'm butting in." Sherlock stood up and took his plate to the sink. He turned on the kettle. "Want tea while I'm doing the washing up?"

"No thanks," John said, turning to face him. "And you're never butting in, Sherlock. We're together now so it's all . . . ours. Don't worry, okay?"

"Don't be daft, John, of course I'll worry," Sherlock said. "One because I'm good at it and it's what I do. But also because I care about your feelings and don't want to act wrong and hurt you." He didn't want to say it specifically but maybe if John had worried a little earlier today, things would have gone differently. He knew John hadn't deliberately done anything wrong, but if John, who was relatively normal, could do something which led to Sherlock's upset, he felt it quite likely that he, who was not normal, could upset John unless he was vigilant. 

Sherlock finished the washing up and poured his tea. "Should we go upstairs? Do you want to do some school work or something else?"

"I want to do something else, but we really should do some homework."

"Pervert," Sherlock said. "Well, let's get the work done and perhaps we could go to bed early . . ." he added, raising his eyebrows. "How about we each work in our own rooms? It might make us more efficient."

"I'm the pervert?" John laughed. "I never said the something else had to be sex, Sherlock."

Sherlock laughed. "Okay then, I'll tell you what -- you go to your room and get your homework done. And I'll have a wank in my room so my perverted desires won't bother you once we go to bed."

"No!" John shoved his arm playfully. "I didn't say the something else couldn't be sex, either."

"Well, we'll see. Sometimes it's difficult to control my urges -- I don't want to subject you to them."

"I like being subjected to them. Bring it on," John grinned. He paused outside of his door. "I'm going to work on my study guides and I will call you if I need help. If not I will be ready for bed soon."

"I'll be here, being good, I promise," Sherlock said. He sat down and checked his assignments to see what was due. He got straight to work and was finished quite quickly. He started working on his blog -- someone had actually left a comment -- so he wrote a response. Then he read the news.

John struggled through his chemistry guides, took a break for some math and then got back to it. By the time he finished he was sure that Sherlock had fallen asleep. Still he went to knock on his door anyways. 

Sherlock's eyes were stinging and his legs had gone to sleep -- he hadn't got up from his desk the entire time. When he heard John's knock, he tried to stand but he was too wobbly. "Come in," he said as he flopped on the bed.

John chuckled softly when we saw him. "Did you masturbate yourself into a coma?" he teased. 

Sherlock sighed dramatically. "You should have been here, John. It was pretty incredible. In fact, it was . . . miraculous. Too bad you missed it. I think," he said, "you would have found it very . . . intriguing."

"That just means you get to work on me, now, as you're all taken care of," John said. 

Sherlock laughed. "You are a devious bastard, John Watson." He got up off the bed and wiggled his legs. "Anyway, can't help you there. My arms are too tired and I've definitely pulled a muscle in my back."

John grinned. "But your mouth is fine," he teased. 

"Perhaps," said Sherlock. "I'm going to get ready for bed. Can we sleep in here tonight? Feel free to get in bed and get started without me. Is your ego going to be sleeping with us tonight?"

"I sent him to my room," John smiled. "I missed your bed already."

"Good. He annoys me," Sherlock said as he grabbed his pajamas and headed to the bathroom.

John stripped down to his pants and didn't bother with pajamas, climbing into Sherlock's bed.

Sherlock nipped downstairs to get some water. He heard his parents talking in the sitting room but didn't bother saying good night. He returned to his room and saw John already in bed. "You look cute," he said. "What time's your first class tomorrow? I'm skipping mine. I hate that teacher," Sherlock said, grabbing his phone to set the alarm.

"Nine thirty," John said, before looking down. "Oh yeah, well, this is how I like to sleep."

"You mean on your back?" Sherlock said, setting his alarm and taking a drink of water.

John forgot he was covered up. "No," John shook his head, moving the covers back so Sherlock could see. 

"I see," said Sherlock. "And you're telling me because . . . ?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't want to startle you," he smiled. 

"Well, I thank you for the warning," Sherlock said. He reached over and turned on the radio and turned off the light. "There's a show I want to listen to in a couple minutes." He snuggled down under the covers. "It's freezing in here."

John scooted close to him. He put his head on Sherlock's shoulder and curled around him, hugging him close. 

Sherlock slid his arm around John's shoulder. "Do you have your phone? I won't have my feelings hurt if you're bored by this show. It's about science. Feel free to play a game or something. Or if you want to go to sleep, that's fine." He stroked John's bare skin. "Today was a shit day, but thank you for making me dinner."

John shifted lightly and nodded. "I'm really sorry, Sherlock," he said quietly, closing his eyes. He let the soft voice on the radio drift into his ears. 

"It's okay," Sherlock said, kissing John's head. "Hey, before you go to sleep, can I say something?" He swallowed and said, "I don't think I want to kiss at school."

"Okay," John mumbled. "That's okay." He knew Sherlock wasn't embarrassed of him, but after what happened today he couldn't blame him. 

"It's just that I like my privacy. I don't like . . . I like my business to be mine. I know some of that will change because of us, but . . . " He couldn't tell for sure if John understood what he was trying to say.”Anyway, I like having a nice secret with you. It makes college more interesting."

"I suppose I just thought since I've been hiding it for so long, it was good to show off a bit. I'm really happy," he said quietly. "But I know it's a bit much so I don't mind."

"I don't mean we have to hide," Sherlock said quietly. "I just . . . I'm not sure exactly. But not kissing." 

"I know," John nodded. "I just got carried away today. I won't anymore, I promise."

"All right, quit talking now, listen to this show," Sherlock said. "You might learn something." He pinched John's arm softly.

John swatted his stomach and closed his eyes again, relaxing against him. 

Sherlock closed his eyes as well, listening to the show. He liked having John next to him as he listened. He liked feeling John's breathing on his skin.

John was asleep soon after, his body slackening next to Sherlock's. 

When the programme ended, Sherlock tried to lean over and turn the volume down just a little. The Shipping Forecast was next and he found it a good way to fall asleep, but he didn't want the music of the next show to wake him. He stretched carefully, trying not to disrupt John's sleep. Once the radio was turned down, he snuggled into John and closed his eyes to go to sleep.

John slept on, his breath slow and deep, not even registering Sherlock's movement. 

Sherlock struggled a little to turn off his mind to sleep. He listened to John's breath and tried to mimic its pattern. Eventually he drifted off as well.

John started having a nightmare; they were at school, gathered in the auditorium, and Sherlock was being dragged up onto the stage. When John stood up to help him people starting throwing things at Sherlock, who looked at John sadly and told him it was all his fault. He woke up with a soft gasp and sighed when he realised it was a dream. He kissed Sherlock's shoulder, murmured another apology and tried to fall asleep again, this time taking a lot longer. 

When the alarm went, Sherlock quickly grabbed it and hit the snooze. He turned over and cuddled John, immediately falling back to sleep. The alarm seemed even louder the second time it rang. "John," Sherlock whispered. "We've got to get up."

John groaned and nodded. "Okay," he grumbled, pushing himself up. 

Sherlock pulled John back down. "Hold on, don't rush, we've got a couple minutes until the alarm goes off again." He snuggled John. "I'm freezing, but you're warm."

John chuckled. "It'll only be harder to get up later," he said, rubbing Sherlock's side. 

"I always hate getting up for college," Sherlock said squeezing John. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "I'm still sleepy," he admitted. 

"Let's take a nap the minute we get back," Sherlock said. He often promised himself this as a way to convince himself to get up and go to college. He rarely did it, but it made him feel better. The alarm rang. Sherlock turned over and grabbed it. He stretched in the bed and then slowly stood up. "I'm going to shower; you can stay in bed a few more minutes if you want." He grabbed his clothes and headed to the bathroom.

John knew he'd fall asleep again so he forced himself up with a sigh. "Want me to make breakfast?" he called out. 

"I'll just have yoghurt," Sherlock called. "Help yourself. I will have a cup of tea though." He got into the shower. The water was hot and he started to wake up properly. He finished getting ready and headed downstairs, where a cup of tea was waiting for him. "Thanks," he said. 

John was finishing up his eggs and toast. He smiled. 

Sherlock opened the fridge. "Shall we take the leftovers for lunch?" He started packing it up. "Let's do something interesting after college. It might help motivate me to get through the day." 

"What did you have in mind?" John asked, cleaning up the dishes he's used. 

"Something fun, something not in the house. Even just a walk into town would be better than nothing," Sherlock said, grabbing his bag.

"Is there a park nearby?"

"There's a playground one with some benches and tables a few streets over," Sherlock answered.

"Hmm," John thought about it and wondered if it would be crawling with children. "Anything with a trail we could walk?"

"Not really. Well, there's like a greenway -- it kind of goes through a wooded area," Sherlock said. "What are you thinking?"

John shrugged. "A walk would be nice, but I don't want to go to the playground if it's swarming with kids," he said. 

"We can walk by there on the way home and see what you think," Sherlock said. "Maybe I'll check and see if there's a movie on. I don't know, I feel like we've been stuck in the house these past few days. I think I'm just more aware of it when there's two of us, rather than just me." 

"That works. We can have dinner in the park if it's not crowded."

"You're such a romantic," Sherlock laughed as they headed out to college.

"I'm not going to deny that," John laughed. 

"It's kind of sweet," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry I'm not like that. Do you wish I were?"

John shook his head. "The relationship can only take so much sappiness," he laughed. 

"I would like you to be happy, though. I mean, have a relationship that you always wanted, that type of thing," Sherlock said as they walked.

John smiled. "No relationship is ever how you imagine it. They're all different. If you love the person you're with and you're treated well then it becomes what you want, what you always wanted."

"Hmmm," Sherlock said, "That's pretty deep for this early in the morning. Where did you learn that? Telly?"

"Is it so surprising that I would say something wise?" John asked with mock offense. 

"It is, yes," Sherlock said. "But I don't mean it as an insult. I just mean, it sounds like you've not really had many models of healthy relationships so I wonder where you came up with that line of shite."

"You don't have to be in a ton of good relationships to know what one consists of. And frankly, having been in such a bad one, I can tell what I want in a good one."

"Fair enough," Sherlock said. "Here stop." He grabbed John's hand and gave him a kiss. "There," he said. "That way you don't have to be tempted while we're at college." He started walking again.

"Believe it or not I can control myself," John smiled. "But thank you, I will think of that throughout the day."

"You're welcome," Sherlock said. "I believe you believe you can control yourself, but I think you're underestimating my adorability."

"I think I get enough of that at the house," John laughed. 

"You'd be surprised. I'm even cuter in natural light."

"We're outside in the sun, you goof. The school fluorescents are not more natural than the sun!" 

"Look, I can't help being gorgeous all the time, so shut up," Sherlock laughed. They walked up the path to the building. "Keep your phone safe," he said, as he went off to his classroom.

John promised he wouldn't take it out around Anderson or anyone like him and headed off to his own class. 


	18. Not Thinking

Sherlock enjoyed his history class -- there was something about the teacher he quite liked: he seemed smart and Sherlock go the sense he hated the other students as much as Sherlock did. The teacher had tried to convince Sherlock to study history at uni; he knew he probably wouldn't follow his advice but he enjoyed the special attention.

Sherlock arrived first in chemistry class so he sat down in back next to empty place so John could sit by him.

When John walked into the class and spotted Sherlock he gave him a questioning look, unsure if he should go and sit right next to him. He approached slowly, so that it wouldn't be odd if he suddenly chose a seat further up. 

Sherlock wasn't sure what John was doing -- now he was worried he had done something he shouldn't or didn't do something he should have. He glanced at the empty seat.

John smiled and moved into the seat. "Sorry," he said as he pulled out his book. "I didn't know how strict we were being about the together stuff."

"Don't be an idiot -- just because I don't want to make out here doesn't mean we can't sit by each other," Sherlock said, opening his notebook.

John rolled his eyes. "I said I was sorry. I just wanted to be sure."

"Well, just be normal now. Don't worry, I'll be sure to let you know if anything else upsets me," Sherlock said. "How's your morning been?"

"It was all right. Almost fell asleep in my first class," John smiled. 

"Boredom or exhaustion?" Sherlock said.

"I wouldn't say exhaustion, exactly, but I can't wait until the summer holiday starts and I can sleep in every day," he said. 

"I was unaware you were so lazy," Sherlock said, smiling. "You'll definitely be sleeping in your own room then."  
  
"Not lazy! I just like my sleep!" John laughed softly. 

Sherlock smiled at John and then turned his attention to the lecture. He took a few notes, though if he were honest, they were mostly for John's benefit. He didn't particularly like this teacher, but he didn't blame her. She did the best with the class she had to work with.

John scribbled down notes and glanced at Sherlock when something came up that he didn't quite get. He was really glad to have Sherlock helping him with these things. 

Class was such a different experience for Sherlock when John was with him. It just seemed to matter more -- not the class itself, but the fact that it meant he could help John. He wondered about uni: would they go together? Even if they did, they wouldn't be in the same classes. How would things change? He looked over and smiled, glad for what they had now.

When the class was over John started packing up his things and looked over at Sherlock. "I might need to go over some of these concepts again," he said. 

"Oh, I'll be happy to 'go over some of these concepts' with you anytime," Sherlock said raising his eyebrows for emphasis. "You know my payment policy for the ones you don't get correct." He packed up his things and said, "Should we go outside to eat our lunch?"

"Sure," John smiled. "And you better stop leading me on because I cannot be held responsible for my actions if you continue. You have been warned," he said with mock seriousness. 

"I'm not worried," Sherlock laughed. "I'm sure I could fight you off -- which would be kind of funny really." He headed outside and got out the two containers of John's leftover meal. He opened a water bottle and took a long drink. "It's really getting warm out. It's weird, though, I generally feel so cold most of the time."

"That's because you got yourself all worked up with sexual rewards," John said, dramatically whispering the last two words before grinning. 

"Let's go home and you can regulate my body temperature," Sherlock said quietly.

"I think it'll only get worse," John smiled.

"I changed my mind; let's get in the bed as soon as we get back from college. We can go to the greenway another day or later. But let's you know as soon as we get home," Sherlock said.

John chuckled. "All right. I'll put my doctor skills to use and see what I can do for you," he said.

"I knew you wanted to be a doctor for perverted reasons," Sherlock laughed. "Just don't go crazy on me with any instruments."

John laughed. "I'll save crazy instruments for my other patients. You only get the one instrument," he said.

"Does that mean you're going to do it to me then?" Sherlock's voice was a whisper and all of a sudden, he felt a little more serious and, although he did want to do it, a little anxious as well.

John had forgotten about that and met Sherlock's eyes. "Do you want to?" He hadn't been prepared for that but he would, of course, like to do it, as long as Sherlock was ready to.

"I would with you," Sherlock said. "If you want to. We don't have to, I don't want you to think that we always have to do that . . . I like everything we do," he felt a little insecure about having brought it up. "But I'd like to try it . . . sometime . . ."

"Don't be afraid to tell me what you want to try," John smiled softly. "If that's what you want to do then we will."

"I'm not afraid, I'm just worried about peer pressuring you," Sherlock said.

John smiled warmly. "You're not, I promise. I like doing things with you. I want to do them."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Let's just promise to be honest about what we want or don't want so we never have to worry." Sherlock took a bite of lunch. "Now I wish we could just leave. But I promise I won't."

"You couldn't do much without me anyways," John smiled, digging into his own lunch.

"You'd be surprised," Sherlock said cheekily. "Don't forget I had many years on my own before you came into my life and introduced new things."

John raised his brows. "And what exactly did you put up there?" he asked quietly, leaning towards Sherlock.

Sherlock hit John's arm. "Oh my god, nothing!" he said. "I never did anything like that!" His face went a bit flushed. "Besides, you know the truth about how it was before you. Not really that sexy at all." He looked down at the ground and then quietly said, "Have you done something like that then?"

John couldn't help grinning but he composed himself quickly. "I was teasing, I'm sorry," he said. He touched Sherlock's arm so their eyes met. "When I first realised I might be gay, I tried it with my finger but it seemed weird and I stopped. That's all," he said.

"But you said you liked it when I did it. Were you lying? You've got to tell the truth. I don't want to do anything you don't want," Sherlock said. He hated that he was so inexperienced. He was worried that John would feel be too nice to tell him if he did something wrong.

"No," John said quickly. "I did like it, doing it with you. The thing is that when I did it I was confused and I just tried what I thought was right and I didn't even have lube --" John cut off and shook his head. "It was good with you. I would never lie about that."

"Don't say lube," Sherlock said, hitting John's arm again. "I'm going to get a hard-on. Maybe we'd better stop talking about this. Any more and there will be no way I'll be able to concentrate in my last class."

John grinned. "Okay. So I shouldn't send you dirty texts either?" He laughed.

"Probably not. As I said, I like to keep my life private and getting an erection in class is kind of the opposite of keeping private things private."

"Stop saying private so much!" John laughed.

"Private, private, private," Sherlock said. "You're not the boss of me." He looked at his watch. "We should go . . . unless you want to skive and get home early?" he said hopefully even though he knew they should go to their classes.

"Not after that -- and I even asked so nicely! I didn't even punch you like you did me," John said, having to really hold back from kissing Sherlock to shut him up.

"I don't punch," said Sherlock. "I love tap. You know nothing about romance!" He threw his rubbish in the bin. They walked back to the building. "I'll see you in an hour," Sherlock said, brushing John's arm.

John staggered dramatically and grinned at Sherlock. "See you," he said, heading off to class. As soon as he was settled his mind was racing, imagining what they'd be doing and trying to get himself together, trying to form some kind of plan. 

In class Sherlock took out his notebook and began doodling. Once the lecture started, he grabbed his phone and sent John a text.

_Private. SH_

John carefully pulled out his phone and stifled a laugh.

_8==D  -JW_

Sherlock looked at the text but didn't know what it meant. He quickly Googled it.

_Pervert. You are a child. Pay attention in class. SH_

_You pay attention. -JW_

_Leave me alone. I'm paying attention in class. SH  
_

_8=====D  There's a bigger one for you so you won't be so grumpy. -JW_

Sherlock smiled to himself.

_I don't like long ones. They're menacing. SH_

_8=D Is that better? -JW_

_Why didn't we just go home if you were going to waste class time like this? SH_

_Because you were being mean. -JW_

_Meet me in my room in exactly 38 mins and I will be very nice to you. SH_

_Oh? I'll be the judge of that. -JW_

_I'm confident you'll agree. xx SH_

Sherlock slipped his phone in his pocket and tried to concentrate on the class. He felt excited and a little anxious, but he knew that whatever was going to happen in his room would be good. He loved John and loved that they could be together.

 _I am too. You haven't failed me yet. Then again you'll be quite distracted. -JW_  
  
After a few minutes of no answer, John put his phone away and tried to salvage his notes. 

When class ended, Sherlock packed up his bag and walked to John's classroom. He smiled when he saw John's face. As they walked home, Sherlock asked, "Do you have much homework?" _  
_

John shook his head. "I'd ask you but you won't do it anyways," he smiled.

"I do my homework in my head," Sherlock said. "It's just to make sure we understand the information. If I understand it, I needn't write it on paper. It's more efficient." He lit a cigarette. "So have you decided how you're going to be nice to me once we get home?"

"Oh yes," John nodded. "I have it all planned out. Sort of."

Sherlock grabbed John's hand and said, "Just being with you will be very nice for me, John. Whatever we do, I just like being close to you." He smiled.

John smiled back. "I just want to make sure you feel good."

"You haven't let me down yet," Sherlock said. "To be honest, just thinking about you makes me feel good."

John smiled wider and squeezed his hand. "Good. Me too."

When they got to the house, Sherlock let them in. He grabbed two bottles of water and then pulled John up to his room. He dropped his bag, locked the door and then sat down on the bed. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

John met him at the bed and kissed him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. 

Sherlock leaned into John's kiss. "See? Already I feel nice," he whispered in between kisses.

John moved to kiss his jaw line and neck, sucking his skin softly, careful not to leave marks.  

Sherlock lifted his chin instinctively, letting John's mouth move across his skin. He hummed softly. "John, that's . . . good." He slipped his hands to John's hips and gripped them.

"I want to kiss every inch of you," John murmured. He pulled Sherlock's shirt off. "Lay back for me," he said, removing his own clothes quickly. Everything except his pants for now. 

Sherlock lay back on the bed, watching John's face and waiting. He could feel himself starting to get hard as John took his clothes off.

John crawled up and kissed him again before moving to his shoulder, kissing downwards over his chest. 

Sherlock let his head fall back to rest on the bed. He relaxed his body, as if to give it up to John to take care of. He tried to keep his breath steady. 

John moved to his stomach, rubbing his sides as he kissed lower and lower, licking before each one.  

Sherlock shivered. "Don't touch too softly," he exhaled. "It tickles."

John licked down hard, sucking on his skin rather than kissing it now. 

Sherlock's body lifted to meet John's mouth. He couldn't keep still, just wanting more.

John started unbuttoning and removing his trousers as he moved lower. 

For a second, it flashed in Sherlock's mind that maybe this was John's seduction technique that he had used on those girls, but he did his best to make that thought go away and relax into all of John's movements.

John paused to get the lube, coming back and hovering over his cock. He remembered the distraction had been perfect so he would do the same to Sherlock. He lubed up his fingers and sucked Sherlock into his mouth.

Sherlock gasped when John sucked him in. It was still so new and felt so good. John's mouth was wet and warm and the way he moved his tongue sent Sherlock crazy. He wondered if he would always have to worry about coming too fast. He did his best to just sink into the bed, feeling everything.

As John sucked steadily, lightly massaging Sherlock's hole, waiting for a response to go on. 

When Sherlock realised what was happening, he took a deep breath. He was sure he wanted to do this, but he was still a little nervous. "Just go slow," he whispered.

John hummed softly and pushed his finger in slowly, keeping it still for now.

Sherlock's body tensed. It was a strange feeling -- not bad -- but just strange, something he had obviously never felt in his life. He wanted to open his eyes and look at John, but didn't think he could. But he knew it was John, John was the one doing this and was only doing it to make Sherlock feel good. And that idea did make him feel good. He did his best to relax his body. He moved his legs a little, separating them more.

John started moving his finger in and out slowly, taking Sherlock out of his mouth to kiss his inner thighs. 

The movement felt good. Within a few minutes, Sherlock started feeling the desire to move his own body. He let his hips rock a little. He still felt the pressure of John's finger, but stronger was the urge to move, to take John into his body. Sherlock moaned softly. "Feels good," he said.

John hummed and gently added a second finger. He continued to kiss and nip at Sherlock's skin, stretching lightly. 

The feeling of fullness surprised Sherlock -- again, it wasn't something he'd ever felt or even imagined. It made him feel so close to John, he had never shared this with anyone and couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone else. But it also brought a feeling of vulnerability. He opened his eyes and looked at John. "Don't stop," he said softly, "but kiss me please."

"Your mouth?" John asked quietly, moving his fingers apart and kissing his thighs. 

Sherlock's hips lifted in response to John's fingers then he said, "Yes, I want your body close to mine for a minute." He held up his arms to bring John closer.

John maneuvered himself to crawl over Sherlock, keeping his fingers in place as their faces met. "Hello," he smiled softly. 

"It feels good," Sherlock said, burying his face in John's neck. "I . . . love you." He squeezed his arms around John's back. He felt safe. He let his head fall back to look at John's face. He leaned up, quickly kissed him, and said, "Let's keep going. So far, so good." He smiled.

"I love you, too," John said, adding a third finger, his hand moving a lot faster now. 

Sherlock made a grunting noise at the movement. "Is that three?" he exhaled. "It's weird -- more feels better. It feels good. I didn't know what it'd feel like but it feels good." His hips were lifting in the rhythm of John's fingers.

"That's three," John said. "Are you ready?" 

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Are you? Use lots of lube, right?"

"Of course," John assured him, pecking his lips before sitting up. He poured lube into his hand and stroked himself, pouring a bit more onto Sherlock's hole. When everything was set he leaned forward, guided himself to his entrance and pushed in slowly. He was so tight. 

Sherlock arched his back as John pressed in. "It's different," he whispered, "I like it . . ." He lifted his knees a little and tried to relax his muscles. "Oh god, it feels good . . . John, don't stop." 

John pushed in all the way, kissing Sherlock before he started to move slowly, in and out, panting softly. It felt incredible.  

Their bodies were rocking on Sherlock's bed. He never thought this would happen. He gripped John's arms tightly. He felt stretched and tight, but he tried to think of it as taking, holding John. It felt good and he wanted it to last a long time, but his body also felt like it wanted more. "More," he mumbled. He knew that if it hurt or if he changed his mind, John would stop. He trusted him enough to go further. "Harder," he said softly.

John nodded and started moving faster, deeper into Sherlock's body. "You feel…so good," John panted.  

Sherlock's body jerked with each of John's thrusts and he almost felt like he'd explode. He wanted John to feel good; he wanted this to be better than John's other times. He lifted his hips to meet John's as he moved into him.

John brought one hand up to stroke Sherlock as he moved, moaning with each movement. It was so good he could hardly think straight. 

As soon as John touched him, Sherlock realised he hadn't been thinking about his cock at all. John's stroking was good, but he knew that it meant he would come pretty soon. After a few minutes, though, he didn't even care -- John was everywhere and everything felt good. He let himself moan through the pleasure. He managed to say the word yes, but he couldn't make any other words.

"You're so gorgeous," John moaned, gasping as he moved. His brain was a melted mess and heat was pooling in every nerve in his body. 

"John, I can't . . ." Sherlock mumbled. He moved his hand on top of John's, stroking himself. "I'm going to come soon. I want you to as well."

"I'm close," John assured him, moving a bit faster. 

Sherlock's hand was now moving quickly. He could feel his body tense as usual, but it felt so different with John inside him. "John," he shouted his name as he came in their hands, all over their bellies. His muscles tightened around John, as if pulling him further inside.

"Fuck," John moaned loudly, coming seconds after Sherlock. His body shook slightly with the force of it, his arm holding him up bucking and making him fall over Sherlock. He was panting heavily. 

Sherlock grabbed John and held him tightly. Their chests heaved against each other. "John, John, John," he muttered, trying to catch his breath. "Thank you, thank you."

John pecked breathless kisses on his shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. He felt so spent and happy. 

"Was it okay?" Sherlock said, softly. He wanted John to have enjoyed it as much as he did, as much as he had enjoyed doing it to John. He wanted them both to love both ways so they could do it over and over again.

John nodded and took a good breath. "Sherlock, it was great. Really great." He lifted his head to look at Sherlock. "Thank you," he smiled. 

"It was kind of . . . amazing. John, I never thought . . . and now we can and I loved it," Sherlock wasn't quite making sense but he hoped John would know what he meant. He squeezed John to him. "I do love you," he said into John's hair.

John kissed his lips and slowly pulled out. "It really was great, Sherlock. I'm glad we both like it."

"I did. It didn't really hurt, it felt full. Though . . ." he said, stretching a little, "I can kind of feel it now." He looked over at John. Suddenly, his heart stopped a little. "John, you didn't use a condom."

John was about to tell him it would pass soon enough when he froze. "I-oh," he bit his lip. "I'm sorry. It's all right. It's fine."

"I wasn't thinking," Sherlock sat up, his mind racing. "What should we do?"

"It's okay," John said quickly. "I won't forget next time. I'm sorry."

"How can you say it's okay? I don't mean to be harsh, John, but I can assure you that you're okay. But you've been with other people . . ."

"A long time ago, and I used condoms then. I don't have anything," he insisted. 

"Do you know that or are you just pretty sure? Have you ever been checked? It's just…" Sherlock said, "I don't want anything to wreck this. I don't want to have to worry about anything; I just want it to be good."

"I know that, Sherlock. Please," John said, feeling close to tears now. He didn't want this to be a bad experience. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Sherlock said. "I just wasn't thinking. I am never not thinking and the one time I stop, now look. I'm sorry, John, I'm sorry, I'm ruining this," he realised he was crying. "I'm ruining everything but I can't help it. I can't help worrying -- think of all those idiots at school who drink and drive or get someone pregnant, it's all because they weren't thinking and I'm not like that. We're not like that, but look what we just did." He couldn't tell if John was mad but he put his arms around him anyway, because he needed comfort.

John cried softly into his shoulder. No matter what Sherlock said now this would forever be a tainted moment. "I'm so sorry," he moaned. 

Sherlock squeezed John. "It's okay, it's not your fault, it's not," he swallowed and pulled away to be able to look at John's face. "We're okay, it's okay. Maybe we could find out for sure and then this won't matter. I loved what we did; I want to do it a million more times. It's okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin everything. Please forgive me."

"I had a check up last year, and I haven't been with anyone. I would never do that to you, Sherlock," John said, looking into his eyes desperately. 

"Okay, that's good," Sherlock said, stroking John's hair. "My god," he said, "Sex stuff is emotional -- in the last hour I've experienced the happiest moment of my life and then a scary one and now we're both crying. Is this how it always is? No wonder people go to sleep afterwards. I'm exhausted in every way." He tried to smile.

John chuckled weakly. "No, it's not always like this," he said. 

"Let's take a nap," Sherlock said, squirming around to get under the covers. He didn't want to keep talking about it, but he said, "I'm sorry I ruined everything. I don't regret it. I loved doing it. I want to do it again, I do. Please say you'll do it again to me, please." 

John lay down as well, curling against him. He nodded. "We can take turns," he smiled softly. "I won't forget the condoms next time, okay?"

"Well, once we're sure, do we have to use them? If you're not doing anything with anyone else . . ."

"That's true. I'm never doing this with anyone else," John said.

Sherlock leaned over and grabbed his phone. "I'm going to set the alarm for an hour," he said. As he rolled back, he said, "Oh, I'm a bit sorer than I thought I was. Will it be better tomorrow?" 

John nodded. "You just need to rest," he said quietly. 

Sherlock slid his arms around John. "I'm sorry I ruined everything, John."

"You didn't ruin anything," John said quietly. "I thought I did and it was your first time and I don't want you to remember it badly."

"John, I won't remember it badly -- the only reason I didn't think is because it was so good. I loved the feeling, being so close . . . Did I do okay, should I have done anything differently to make it better for you?" He nuzzled into John's shoulder. "I mean, besides the crying afterwards obviously . . ."

"Everything you did was perfect," John said. "I enjoyed it. It felt good."

"Are you sure? I want to do what you like," Sherlock said. "I want us to keep doing it. Did you like this better than when I did it to you?"

"It's hard to say. They are both good in different ways," John said. "What did you like better?"

"My body liked both," Sherlock said. "But they were different to my feelings, I think. I mean . . . when I did it to you, I just wanted to make you feel good. It made me feel good doing it and watching you. Today, it felt more about me -- which was good obviously. But different," Sherlock said. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

John nodded. "I know what you mean," he said. "It's hard to explain."

Sherlock leaned in and gave John a long kiss. He bit softly at John's bottom lip and then licked from his mouth to his ear. He lifted one of his hands up into John's hair and tangled his fingers in it. "Sometimes I feel like I get lost in you and I wish I could stay that way," his voice was sleepy but after all that had just happened, he wanted to try to say what he was feeling even if it sounded stupid.

John smiled and shuddered lightly. "That's how I feel, too. You're the best thing to happen to me, Sherlock."

"I don't want to be apart from you," Sherlock said. "I want to stay with you and take care of you and you take care of me. I never felt like this about anyone. Not even my family . . .”

John nodded. "Love will do that to you," he smiled. 

"I hope it's okay," Sherlock said, closing his eyes. He let himself go and fell to sleep.

John kissed his cheek. "Of course it is," he said quietly. He closed his eyes to rest but didn't fall asleep. 

Sherlock dreamt that he and John were at uni. They were walking across the quad. They were older. It felt like a good dream.

John rubbed Sherlock's chest lightly, thinking about the things they had done. It really had felt so good but the end -- he couldn't believe how it ended. It was going to be hard to forget how panicked Sherlock had been. Sherlock's worrying was so big sometimes.

Sherlock shifted in his sleep. The dream changed a little, he wasn't sure where they were. He was holding on to John's hand. His body curled.

John looked up at him as he slept, admiring his face. He was so handsome. John was lucky Sherlock liked him.

Before the alarm went off, Sherlock opened his eyes. John was staring at him. "What? What's wrong? What's happened?" he asked.

"Nothing, hey, calm down," John said quickly. "It's all right."

"Well, what are you staring at me for? It freaked me out," Sherlock said, smiling. He snuggled under the covers, reaching for John's waist. 

"I was admiring how cute you are," John laughed.  

"Well, take a picture, it'll last longer," Sherlock said, rubbing his eyes.


	19. Dream

Sherlock turned to face John. "I had a dream about you. Turn over and face the wall. I don't want you to look at me while I tell you." He pulled a face and said, "Here -- memorise my cute face and then turn away."

John closed his eyes and started randomly touching Sherlock's face as if he couldn't see. "Like this?"

"No, turn all the way over and face the other way." Sherlock pushed on John's shoulder until he was facing the other way. Sherlock described the dream. "We were at college, we were together. We lived in a flat together, just us. We each had a room so we could have privacy but the rest of it was our home and it was cool. You cooked us good dinners and I cooked us breakfast. We sometimes watched movies and sometimes listened to the radio. It was really good." He rubbed John's back a little as he spoke. Then he came up with an idea and lowered his voice a little as he spoke. "One day you had an evening class and when you came home, I called you into my bedroom. You came to the door and asked what was going on. I said, 'I want to fuck you now'." He paused to see what John's reaction would be -- Sherlock had never said anything like aloud that before. "Do you want me to tell you what happened next?"

John was listening and smiling at his dream and almost turned around when Sherlock paused. But then he kept going and -- oh. It was that kind of dream. He bit his lip and shifted slightly. "Please tell me what happens next," he whispered.

"You said, 'But I just got home and I'm tired' but I said, 'John, I don't care because I need to. I've been missing you and thinking of you and I have to fuck you right now.'" Sherlock swallowed, hoping this wasn't a big mistake. "I don't even let you think about it. I stand up and walk over. I grab your arm and pull you into the room. I kiss your mouth hard; I even bite your lip. Then I shut the bedroom door and turn you around to face the door. I lift your hands up over your head and press them against the door." Sherlock let his hand rest on John's hip. "Should I keep going?"

"God yes," John breathed, closing his eyes tight so he could watch it, like a movie. He was getting hard again. 

"I'm standing behind you and I open your trousers but I don't even touch you. Instead, I undo mine and I touch myself. I'm already hard; I have been just waiting for you to get back home. I've got lube in my hand and I touch myself. Then I slide my hand down you and get you all slick. I push a finger into you. It's not rough but it's not slow. I feel like I can't wait, so I start moving and then put another one in. I feel like I have to do it to you though, so I grab myself and tell you to separate your legs and then I push into you. I'm taller than you, I grab your hips and pull them and I thrust into you." Sherlock couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, but he was finding it so sexy to think about. He could feel himself getting hard and he shifted a little so his cock pressed against John. "I keep doing it. It is just what I want, you are just what I want and I keep pushing in and pulling you down and then I come into you and it's the best feeling I've ever have and it's all because of you."

John whimpered softly. The things Sherlock was saying, the words coming out of his mouth -- it was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard.

"John," Sherlock leaned closer, pressing his body against John's. "What do you think happened next?" He slid his hand from John's hip to hold John's hard cock.

"I'm still hard. I need to come," John said quietly.

"I don't turn you around. I keep you against the door. I hold you, just like I am now, and I start stroking you." He started rubbing John, slowly but steadily. "But I use my other hand, too," he said as he shifted his body. He slipped his fingers into his mouth and moved to John's arse cheeks. "It's warm and wet, but I want to be there again." He pressed a finger against John's hole and then he slowly pushed in so he was really doing what he was describing.

"Can we stand up?" John asked breathlessly. "And do that for real?" he moaned, pushing back against Sherlock's hand. 

"Um, okay," Sherlock said. He hoped this was going to be okay, he hadn't thought this would happen. He moved and grabbed the lube. "Let me get a condom," he said, rushing to get one. He pulled John's arm. If they were going to do this, they needed to do right now before Sherlock lost his nerve.

John kept the picture that Sherlock had described in his head. "Hurry," he said.

Sherlock smiled at John. "Get against the door now," he said quietly. They were both naked and Sherlock was trying not to think about that. He spilt some lube into his hands and rubbed them together. He quickly stroked himself as John got into position. "Put your arms up," he said, "I mean, your arms were up in the dream." He stood behind John and reached around to grab John's cock. He started rubbing it, making it slick with his hand. Then he slid his other hand between John's cheeks and pressed a finger into him. "Oh god, John, this is sexy."

"I know," John breathed, spreading his legs a bit wider for Sherlock as he raised his arms up over his head. He moaned softly. 

Sherlock moved his finger in and out, and then slipped in a second one. He was trying to keep the rhythm of his fingers and his hand the same. He slid his hand over the tip as he leaned in and kissed the back of John's neck. He felt shy but he worked up his nerve and said, "I want to fuck you now."

"Do it," John moaned softly.

Sherlock tried to put on the condom, but he couldn't do that at the same time as stroking John's cock. So he grabbed one of John's hands and moved it down. "Keep this hard but don't come," he said, more forcefully than he really meant to. "Relax your muscles," he said more softly. He turned his attention to his cock. He rolled on the condom, stroked a few more times to make sure it was slick, and then pressed it steadily into John. "You okay?" he managed to say even though the pleasure was making it hard for him to focus. "I want to move."

"M-move," John nodded, stroking slowly. Sherlock's tone was sending heat through every nerve in his body. He was panting and moaned loudly, forehead pressing against the door. 

Sherlock gripped John's hips and pulled his body back against him. He tried to steady his legs so he could thrust up, pulling John so their hips crashed into each other. "Oh god, John," Sherlock moaned, "God, you feel so good."

This was different for John, standing up. Different but good. He listened to Sherlock's sounds and his own breathing was rough. 

"I'm sorry but I'm going to come," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry but it's too good, John, I'm going to come but don't you." Sherlock's legs were trembling with the force of the movement. "Stop if you have to, John, just wait . . . god --" Sherlock's body tensed and he arched into John's, coming hard and gripping John's hips tightly.

John pushed back against him with a small groan. He clutched at the wall for support. "Sh-Sherlock," he moaned softly. 

"Turn around and lean against the door," Sherlock said, doing his best to catch his breath. His legs were shaking, but he knelt down. "Make yourself come into my mouth," he said softly, licking the tip of John's cock.

"Ah -- are you sure?" John asked, physically holding himself back.

"Just do it," Sherlock's voice was husky. "Hurry, I want you to."

John stroked himself quickly and barely made it a minute before he was coming hard, shuddering against the door and moaning for Sherlock.

Sherlock kept his mouth open and swallowed it. He pressed his face against John's belly, holding tightly to his legs. He took a breath and said, "Help me up and over to the bed."

John needed to take several deep breaths before he could comply, pulling at Sherlock's hand and taking him over to the bed. He followed, collapsing onto his back and panting. "Sherlock . . . that way . . . you were fantastic," he breathed.

Sherlock snuggled into John. He whispered, "John, can I tell you a secret?"  
  
John nodded, turning to look at Sherlock, to meet his eyes.

"None of that was in my dream. I just made it up. I didn't even see it one of those videos. I just made it up and wondered if you would want to do it. Don't be mad. I've never talked like that, I've hardly even ever thought like that."

John cut him off with a quick peck on his lips. "I'm not mad at all, Sherlock. I'm glad."

"I couldn't imagine saying it. I've never talked like that . . ."

"It was really sexy, Sherlock. I kind of liked how . . . commanding you were," he admitted quietly.

"Yeah," Sherlock said, kind of chuckling. "I'm not really sure where that came from. But you liked it? I mean just for sex stuff, not all the time. Would you want me to be like that again sometime? You don't think it was mean -- like in the videos? I don't want to be mean."

John shook his head. "We’ll never be mean to each other, whatever we try. Did you like it? Did you like being like that? Do you want me to try it?" 

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "I liked it today when you had a plan, but I don't know if I'd like to be ordered around. I probably have some control issues. We'll see. I don't think I'd find it sexy if you were mean and I know I couldn't be mean to you . . . even if you asked me to be. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise! You weren't mean at all . . . it was good."

Sherlock smiled at John and kissed his nose. "I'll file that information away then for future reference. Anything else come to mind at the moment? You can always write it down if it's easier to share."

"Maybe . . . in the shed?" John reminded him.

"Oh yeah," Sherlock said, smiling. He never thought he'd ever even take someone into that shed and now John wanted to have sex there. "We can try that. Do you want me to boss you about in the shed? Is that what your dirty little fantasy was, John Watson?"

"In my fantasy you lean against the table while I suck you and then I bend you over it and do it to you," he said, flushing lightly. 

"Hmmm . . . do you boss me at all?" Sherlock asked.

"If you want me to," John said.

"I don't think I do," Sherlock said. "Let me ask you, did it feel better when I was behind you? Or did it feel the same?"

"Different but still good."

"I'm not sure about bending over the table. I just mean practically . . . because I'm taller. Do you think it'll work?"

John shrugged. "Honestly I don't know," he said.

"Well, we'll try. We can figure something out. I want to make it happen for you and it sounds pretty sexy. I've never had anything sexy happen in that shed." He kissed John's neck again. "Is your backside sore? Do you think we'll give everything away tomorrow if we're both waddling around college?" Sherlock laughed.

John laughed at the word he chose. "Maybe. We should take baths to help the soreness until we get used to it." 

"Maybe," Sherlock said. "I suppose it won't seem like this every time. Should we have another nap or are we going to get up?" He looked over at the clock. "My parents'll probably be home in an hour or so."

"Let's take a quick nap," John said, getting a bit more comfortable. He was tired now.

"I love you and I loved all the things we did today," Sherlock said, snuggling into John and closing his eyes.

John nodded sleepily. "Love you, too," he murmured.

Sherlock drowsed for a little but didn't sleep deeply enough to dream. When he woke up, John was asleep beside him. He reached over to turn off the alarm before it rang and grabbed a book to read as John slept. He could hear movement downstairs so he knew his parents were home.

John slept on for another hour before starting to wake up. He looked around, caught Sherlock's gaze and smiled. "Hello," he said while he stretched.

"Hello," Sherlock said, setting his book down. "Did you have a good nap? You looked cute while you were sleeping."

John smiled and sat up beside him. "You should have woken me up," he said. "What are you reading?"

"A book about DNA and crime solving. It's interesting. To me. It's about chemistry, so probably less interesting to you," Sherlock said. "Should we get something to eat? I could use a cup of tea." He stood up and starting getting dressed. "My parents are home by the way, so you'll need to make yourself look presentable. Less cute and less sexy."

John chuckled. "And here I thought I'd go down in the sheet," he smiled.

"I'm pretty sore still. I'll feel normal and then get a little twinge. Hmm . . . the things I go through for you," Sherlock said, giving him a little kiss before they headed downstairs.

"Hey, I know how you feel," John said quietly as he followed.

They went into the kitchen and Sherlock put the kettle on. "How about a jacket potato with beans and cheese for dinner?" Sherlock said to John. 

"Okay," John agreed. "But no beans for me," he reminded.

Sherlock started to work on the potatoes. "Read me the crossword clues while I'm doing this." He motioned towards the newspaper on the table. As he put the potatoes into the oven, his mother came into the kitchen. 

"Oh, I'm sorry -- I didn't realise you were home," she said.

Sherlock said, "We were taking a nap."  
  
"You were both napping . . . together?" she asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "I'm making us dinner now and then we'll go back upstairs to work."  
  
"Okay," she said. "Is there anything else the two of you need?" She glanced at John.

"We're fine," Sherlock said as she left the room.

Sherlock poured the beans into the pan but didn't turn them on. "Let's go out back. I want a cigarette," he said as he opened the French doors and went out to sit at the garden table.

John followed and was fidgeting nervously, glancing back at the door and wringing his fingers. How did Sherlock's parents feel about the gay thing? Would they be mad? Would they tell him to leave? "I don't want to get you in trouble," he said quietly.

"I'm not in trouble," Sherlock said, lighting a cigarette. "I'm sure they probably guessed; that was obviously her way of confirming." He took a long drag and blew smoke rings. "It's quite a nice evening. I'm glad it's getting warmer."

"They're not mad? I won't have to leave?" John asked to make sure.

Sherlock smiled and said sarcastically, "First off, we're legally adults. Secondly, they'd have to care to be angry, wouldn't they? John, as long as I don't bring them grief with complaints from college or the neighbours, I really don't think they give a shit either way."

"Okay," John said, sitting next to him. He suddenly wondered how long they had been home and if they'd heard what they did against the door. He didn't bring it up. "That's good."

"Stop worrying, John," Sherlock said smiling at him. "As long as the sex stuff is quiet while they're here, we won't have any issues with them." Sherlock stubbed his cigarette out. "Let's stay out here for a bit. Do you have homework?" He took a sip of his tea.

"Not today," John said. "And like you always say, I can't not worry."

Sherlock smiled. "I get it. But trust me, we're okay with them." He decided to smoke another cigarette. "After we eat, should we go on a walk? Of course, if you weren't here, I might do some work on my own. Do you want to join me for an experiment in the shed?" he said, cheekily.

"Pervert," John smiled, swatting his arm. "Just do what you normally would if I wasn't here."

"To be honest, I don't know what I do with my time really," Sherlock said. "What would you be doing if you didn't live here?"

"Listening to music, going on the internet, or going to the park," John said. 

"What would you do at the park?" Sherlock said, looking interested.

"Just walk mostly. If it was really nice I would bring a book with me and read with a book light."

"That's quite sweet, John," Sherlock said. "You sure you weren't there to spy on the lads playing football?" Sherlock took a sip of tea. "Let's go on a walk then, unless you want to be on your own."

"Yes, I'm sure," John said. "And you owe me a walk anyways. You're very bad at following through," he teased.  

"I always follow through," Sherlock laughed. "I just take my time to do it. Good, let's go on a walk then after we eat. Good for digestion apparently." He looked at his watch. "We've got a little time left yet; I'll quiz you on some chemistry. You're in charge of keeping track of how many kisses I owe you." He started first with some multiple choice questions.

"You're picking the hard ones on purpose," John said after a good half hour of being quizzed. The score was 10-15, with John owing Sherlock more kisses. 

"Students respond best to teachers with high expectations of them. I have high expectations of you, John," Sherlock said. "Especially tonight once we go to bed." He raised his eyebrows up and down. "Okay, now we'll switch. You ask me questions. Even if you don't know the answers, I might."

"Pervert! Always a pervert," he laughed before starting his round, focusing on questions that confused him still. 

By the time dinner was ready, they had covered quite a lot of information and Sherlock had smoked two more cigarettes. "What's the score then?" he asked as he stood up to head inside.

"Twenty to thirty two," John said. "Don't gloat," he smiled.

"Hmmm, and do all these kisses have to be on the mouth?" Sherlock laughed. When John shoved him, he said, "If I'm going to be accused of being a pervert, I might as well act like one." They went inside and Sherlock warmed up the beans while he prepared John's food. Then he brought both plates to the table and sat down with John.

John dug in happily, smiling at Sherlock as he ate. "Just so you know I can easily think of thirty two places to kiss you," he said. "But if we balance them out I only have to think of twelve."

"I can only think of one," Sherlock said. "The shed." He smiled.

"I meant body parts. But if you keep talking about the shed you'll drive me into a frenzy and I'll take you right here," John said quietly.

"As long as you're prepared to explain to my parents what you're doing, that'd be fine by me," Sherlock said, taking a bite of food.

John kicked him under the table. "They would definitely know what I was doing," he smiled.

"Do you have a thing for my father? Is that why you're so desperate for him to know what's going on?" Sherlock whispered. "I didn't think he was your type."

"That's gross!" John laughed, kicking him harder. "I'm going to have to move out."

"Shut up and eat your food," Sherlock said. "If you're going to be violent, I won't invite you to the shed. That is a violence-free zone."

"You shut up. Pervert." John grinned and continued to eat.

"You love it," Sherlock said. They finished their meal and Sherlock did the washing up. Sherlock put the kettle on. "A cup of tea and then a walk," he said. "Let's sit outside with our tea. It really is lovely out," Sherlock said.

They went back outside and Sherlock had another cigarette with his tea. Once they finished, Sherlock went in and told his parents they were going on a walk. When he returned, he told John that his parents were going out for the evening. "So perhaps we shall go to the shed when we get back from our walk," he said as they headed off. "We'll see how we feel. Energy wise and . . . otherwise . . . I'll have to see how I'm feeling down there, if you know what I mean. If I'm too sore, you're not getting anywhere near me, especially bent over the table," Sherlock said, pushing John's arm. "Though I have to admit, I've been thinking about that a little and it does sound pretty sexy." He looped his arm through John's.

John laughed. "We'll see then," he smiled.

"I want to change the subject for a minute," Sherlock said cautiously, "and ask you something but if you won't want to talk about it, that's all right." He paused for a second and then said, "What was your mum like?"

John's smile faded to something small and sad. "I don't really remember much," he said. "I was young when she died. I think that's when my dad turned the way he is. I heard him once, saying it wasn't fair that he got stuck with two kids alone. I think he was angry." 

"I'm sorry your mum's gone. That must have been so hard . . . It's a shame your dad took his anger on you and your sister. It wasn't fair for him, but it wasn't your fault," Sherlock said softly. He stroked John's arm lightly as they walked.

"Harry says she read a lot, but only while my dad was at work. They would go on walks a lot when he was home. And I guess . . ." John's voice started to break and he spoke a bit more softly. "She baked a lot . . ."

"It sounds like it was all right before she died. I wish you could have experienced more of that," Sherlock said softly.

John nodded, blinking several times to clear his eyes. He looked away, admiring something stupid in the park for a distraction. "Yeah, I wish I did too," he said after a bit. 

"I know it's not the same, John, but I can be your family now. We can do it right, just let me know when you need something . . ." Sherlock said.

John looked over at Sherlock and swallowed hard, smiling up at him. "I'd like that," he said. 

"Thanks for talking to me about it," Sherlock said. "I love you. Not just during the good times . . . all the time."

John chuckled softly and rested his head on Sherlock's arm as they walked. "I love you, too."

They walked quietly for a few minutes. "I'm glad it's getting warmer. I'm always so cold in the house. It'll be nice to keep the windows open and have the fresh air inside," Sherlock said.

John nodded. "I like doing homework outside when it's nice."

"Do you have more to do tonight? Be honest. I can read outside with you if you do," Sherlock said.

John shook his head. "Nothing required. And we studied chemistry already," he smiled. 

"Maybe we could save the shed for another day," Sherlock said. "Maybe my parents are going away again this weekend and we could do it then. We should each have a bath and then I feel like cuddling in the bed with you."

"That sounds really nice," John said, not feeling up to it at the moment either. "Maybe we can just put a movie in?"

"Yes, you can even pick one -- from mine or something online. Whatever you want. Well, except horror. You know I'm not keen but I'd much rather have something not gross or scary before we go to sleep. Otherwise, you can pick. I promise to keep an open mind," Sherlock said. "Perhaps we could have a little kissing as well as cuddling?" 

"I think it's really cute that you ask me for things like that," John smiled. "I think we can work that in." 

"I guess it's just still so new. Or maybe I'm just like that -- I like knowing what's going to happen," Sherlock said. "I hope you don't get sick of it." They kept walking until they were almost back at the house.

John shook his head. "I won't. I like knowing, too. And being surprised. I don't know," he laughed softly. "I like all of it." 

"I like all of it, too," Sherlock said, leaning over and giving John a quick kiss on the head. "Things are pretty good for us, aren't they?"

John nodded. "A lot better than I ever thought they would be. Before university, anyways."

"Do you think I should apply to the same uni as you? Do you think that would be wise?" Sherlock said, dropping John's arm and then regretting doing so. He grabbed John's hand instead.

"Why wouldn't it be?" John asked, looking over at him. Suddenly Sherlock seemed so far away. "We study well together -- you wouldn't be a distraction."

"I'm not saying it would be a bad idea. I'm just saying, it's still new . . . what if things change? I'm not an easy person, John. If things were to change . . . it might be hard being at the same place," Sherlock said. He didn't want him to think this was about John -- it wasn't. It was about Sherlock as well as Sherlock's relentless realism. 

"I know you're being practical but . . . I hate when you say things like that," John admitted. "I know we will have arguments and ups and downs and all of that but I can't imagine ever wanting to not be with you."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said softly. "I can't help it. I can't imagine ever wanting to be without you either . . . but isn't that what everyone says?" He went silent for a minute. "But I'll try harder not to worry so much . . ."

"I know that's what everyone says. But we're not like them...which everyone says, too," John admitted a bit defeated. "I just -- I know that's what people will say about us -- that we probably have a tough road ahead of us and I just . . . I want us to be sure, at least."

"I feel as sure as I can be, John," Sherlock said. "I think you know a little bit about my life now. Would I have moved you in if I wasn't sure? Would I have told you anything about my family? Would I have done . . . the things we've done? I don't make quick decisions. If anything I err on the side of caution. This is different, I know that." 

John squeezed his hand.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Sherlock said because he really was. When they got home, Sherlock took his bath first and then went into to John's room. "I think I'll just have a shower," John said.

"All right. While you do, I'll make us some tea and then we can do some cuddling, okay?"

"And biscuits?" John smiled. 

"Yes, biscuits," Sherlock said heading down. He made the tea and grabbed the biscuits. As he headed upstairs, he called "Good night" to this parents. 

John got out of the shower and padded down the hall to Sherlock's room.

Sherlock climbed into bed and set his alarm. "Do you want to pick one of my movies or find something online?"

"Have you ever seen [**_October Sky_**](http://youtu.be/zxJQgYPXjN4)?" John asked, settling in next to him.

"No," Sherlock said as he started to search for it online. "Are you sure it's not a horror one? I don't want to watch a bunch of gruesome things before going to sleep." 

"It's not," John promised. "It's about these boys building rockets and trying to get out of their small mining town."

"Okay, that sounds good," Sherlock said. He waited for John to get into bed and then took a drink of tea. He set the biscuits on the bed between them. "Should we keep the light on or turn it off?"

"Turn it off," John said. "Movies are better in the dark."

Sherlock leaned over and turned off the light. "I never think about popcorn until we're in bed watching a movie. Try to remind me tomorrow when we're out and that way we'll have it for the next time." Sherlock snuggled against John, tangling their legs. 

"We have biscuits," John said, leaning against his shoulder and taking one.

"Still. I'm not even sure I like popcorn that much but I'm always in the mood for it when we watch movies like this," he said. He started the film and began watching it. He liked that John was sharing something with him.

"I hope you like the movie," he said as it started. He felt so relaxed and happy, cuddled with Sherlock like this and watching movies. It was easy and good.

Sherlock was a little surprised to find that he was enjoying the film. He could identify with the lads' desire to create rockets. "Do you like this because of the space stuff?" he whispered to John.

John nodded. "And the story is pretty good, wanting more for yourself, you know?"

"Yeah, I like it," Sherlock squeezing into John. "I think Homer's quite handsome," he said quietly. "I'm thinking I might trade you in for him, what do you think?" he teased.

"That's fine. I'll just go find a new boy at university. I'll even bring him to your shed," John laughed.

"That's outrageous!" Sherlock said. "I thought I was special . . ." he said, turning away to pout. "I'm being replaced by a boy you haven't even met . . ."

"Only because you've traded me in for a famous actor!" John laughed.

"That's different," Sherlock said, "and I won't even bother explaining why." He peeked his head over his shoulder. "You should probably do your best to get back onside now. Otherwise, I'll have to keep up this pouting, and I don't really fancy missing any of the movie."

"Your pouting won't get me this time," John smiled. "I'll just watch the movie alone," he said, hording all of the biscuits.

Sherlock turned over but didn't look at John. He went back to watching the film. After a few minutes, he said, "Could I have a biscuit, please?" still without looking at John.

John leaned over and kissed his cheek, trying to feed him a biscuit.

Sherlock smiled. "Be careful," he said, "I don't want to get crumbs in the bed." He kissed John and went back to the movie.

"Don't be messy, then," John teased softly.

"Shhh," Sherlock said dramatically. "I'm trying to watch this film!" As the movie started to come to an end, Sherlock -- eyes still glue to the screen -- slipped off his pajamas, without saying a word.

John leaned away as Sherlock started squirming and taking his clothes off. "Just because the movie is over doesn't mean he's coming through the screen," John teased.

Sherlock ignored him. He concentrated on his biscuit, not acknowledging John or his own nakedness at all. When he finished eating, he took a sip of his now cold tea. He turned off the telly and turned away from John, curling up. "Good night then," he said.


	20. Creative

John watched him, wondering if this was another trick. "Shall I go to my room?" he asked.

"It's up to you," Sherlock said in a sleepy voice. "If you'd rather sleep in there, you're welcome to." He let the words sit for a moment or two. "Or . . ." he said softly, "you could take off your own clothes and spoon me . . . as I said, it's up to you."

John started to undress. "I can't tell if you're mad at me," he said quietly. "If this is that pouting game again I don't like it," he said.

"It's not the pouting game," Sherlock said, "I generally call attention to that one. This one's a different game. It's the Cuddle-Sherlock game."

John smiled softly. "Just don't be mad at me, okay?" He curved his naked body around Sherlock and pressed his forehead into Sherlock's neck.

"Don't worry, John," Sherlock said softly. "If I get angry, I usually make it pretty clear." He pulled John's arms around him and snuggled back into John's body. "I just wanted some cuddling off you." He lifted one of John's hands to his mouth and kissed it. 

John kissed the back of his neck. "Well, you only had to ask," he murmured. "Taking everything off is a bit suggestive," he said. 

"I was trying to blend shyness with seduction," Sherlock said. "I like to keep you guessing."

John chuckled softly.  "I see," he said.

Sherlock slid around so he was facing John. He gave him a long kiss on the mouth and then pulled his head back and smiled.

"Well, that was nice," John smiled. "I'll add it to the tally," he teased.

Sherlock scooted his body closer so their fronts were pressed against each other. He pulled one of John's legs up so that it was partly wrapped around Sherlock's hip and then slid his arms around John. "I like being as close to you as possible," he said quietly. "Especially when we're naked."

"When we go to university we should get a room together," John said, his voice hushed between them. "Because if we don't I'll just be in your room all the time anyways."

"Shh, less talking, more kissing, please," Sherlock said, covering John's face with little kisses.

John caught Sherlock's lips into a kiss, keeping it slow and soft.

"Mmm," Sherlock hummed into the kiss. "That's good. I love kissing you," he said. "I never thought much about kissing but it's so nice with you." He slid one hand down John's back, resting it on his hip. He moved down and sucked softly on John's neck.

"If you just want a cuddle, that's dangerous," John moaned softly. Sherlock knew his neck was sensitive.

"I didn't say I just wanted to cuddle," Sherlock said, pressing John's lower back. "But remember, whatever happens, we need to be quiet, okay?" He licked up John's neck to his ear which he sucked on. "Should I stop? I don't want to."

John shook his head. "We can be quiet," he murmured. He slipped his hand down and started to, very slowly, stroke Sherlock.

Sherlock let his head fall into John's chest. "God, John," he said under his breath. "Just you touching me -- it makes me go crazy."

John smiled softly. "The feeling's mutual," he whispered.

Sherlock sucked again on John's neck as he let his own hand drop to hold John's cock. He started stroking it in the same rhythm John was using. "Let's go slow," he said. “…and make it last a long time."

"Okay," John agreed quietly. He assumed that would also help them keep quiet. "Tell me your favourite place I touch with my hands and your favourite place I touch with my mouth," John said quietly.

Without thinking, Sherlock said, "I like when your hand touches my hair and when your mouth touches . . . my cock. I mean, I like when your hand touches that too," he paused to focus on the movement on John's hand, "but your mouth, it's so private . . . and it means something to me. And obviously, it feels great," he smiled, feeling his cheeks flush a little -- whether from shyness or excitement or both, he wasn't sure.

John switched hands and moved one up to lace into Sherlock's hair, petting him lightly as he stroked. His fingers combed through the curls gently at the same pace.

Sherlock moved his neck like a cat's, helping John's hand move through his hair. "I know this seems less private, but it's not -- I never let anyone else touch my hair. I even cut it myself." He kept a steady pressure on John's cock as he slowly moved his hand over it.

John smiled softly. "I feel very lucky, Sherlock. That you agreed to help me study, to be my friend, my boyfriend -- that you saved me really."

"Don't get all romantic now, John," Sherlock said smiling. "It'll make me feel guilty about all the filthy things I'm thinking about us doing."

John chuckled softly. "I really do like the filthy things you come up with," he said. "You're quite the pervert," he smiled.

"I wouldn't call it perversion, just creativity. Will you agree to be a willing partner in my latest plan? If you don't like it, we can stop, I promise."

John nodded. "Just tell me what to do," he said quietly.

Sherlock shifted his body away from John's. "Lie on your back and put your hands above your head. Here," he lifted John's arms, "hold onto the headboard. Keep your hands up there, no matter what. And try not to make any noise -- unless you want me to stop."

John raised his arms up and gripped the headboard, watching Sherlock curiously. "What are we doing?" he whispered.

"Playing a game. I'm going to do something and then you tell me on a scale of 1-10 how much you like it. One means 'it's okay but if you never do it again, that's fine with me' and 10 means 'I'm going to come if you keep that up much longer.' If you say stop, I'll know you don't like it at all and I'll stop right away. Okay?"

"Okay," John said quietly. He was both excited and anxious, wondering what Sherlock was about to do.

Sherlock slid his body to John's side. He started touching John's face lightly and then trailed his fingers down to John's chest. He moved his hand across it and then rubbed one of John's nipples before leaning over and licking it. He swirled his tongue around it and then nipped it with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth for a minute. Then he lifted his head and looked at John. "Well?"

John sighed softly. "A six," he murmured. That had felt very good and was hard to place.

Sherlock sat up and moved so he was next to John's hip. He licked his palm and then wrapped his fingers around John's cock. He began stroking it slowly. Just doing this made his own cock jerk, but he tried not to be too distracted. He added a little twist and a few times passed his hand over the tip. "What about this?"

"Um . . . eight," John hummed, gripping the headboard harder.

"And if I go faster?" Sherlock whispered, speeding up his movements a little.

"N-nine," John breathed, his hips bucking upwards now. His hands came down and gripped the sheet on his sides.

Sherlock stopped abruptly. "Just breathe for a couple minutes," he whispered. He ran his fingertips lightly across John's belly and down to his thighs. Then he moved himself down to sit between John's legs, facing towards him. "Okay now? Try to get back to normal before I do anything else."

John twitched under his light touches and then looked up at him. Normal? There was no way this erection was going down, but he took deep breaths like Sherlock asked and pulled himself away from the edge. "Okay," he said.

Sherlock smiled at John. Then he leaned down and, using one hand, tipped John's cock into his mouth. He sucked on the tip lightly and then slowly licked up and down the shaft, curling his tongue a little. He kept the movement steady and soft and then asked, "How about now?"

"Nine," John murmured, fingers lacing into Sherlock's hair.

"Okay then," Sherlock said, pulling his head away. Then he dipped down and licked at John's balls, sucking one quickly into his mouth. He still held John's cock with one hand. He kept flicking his tongue, licking John's balls and occasionally going near his opening. When he came up for air, he said, "What do you think?"

John reluctantly let Sherlock slip out of his fingers, moaning softly when Sherlock started up again. And then his mouth -- John had to slap a hand over his mouth to be quiet. He flushed and moved his hand slowly. "N-nine," he murmured, gazing up at Sherlock. When his imagination started, it really took off.

"Okay," Sherlock said, sitting up. "Let's take a break for a minute." He lay down next to John. He dragged his hand up one of John's arm, gripping it tightly as he did, rubbing John's muscles. Then he dragged it down his other arm. "Did you like having your arms up like this? Rate that."

John looked over at Sherlock. "Seven," he admitted.

"Interesting," Sherlock said, kissing John's cheek. "Do you want to keep playing?"

John nodded. "But I want you to play, too. You always take care of me."

"I'm not taking care of you, I'm getting myself excited," Sherlock laughed. "Fine. Let me finish my go. Then it can be your turn. Scoot up so you're not totally flat on your back," he instructed, sliding a couple pillows behind John so he was sitting up just a little. "Hold onto the bed again." He shifted back to where he had been. This time he stroked John's thighs, gripping them. Then he slid down so he was lying on his belly, between John's legs. He nuzzled John's thighs with his nose and then slipped his fingers into his mouth. He flicked his tongue against John's hole and slowly slid the tip of one finger inside. "Are you too tender? Be honest," he said softly.

"Just a little bit," John said quietly. His fingers curled into the mattress.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," Sherlock said. "I don't want to hurt you." He pulled his finger tip out and reached over to the drawer to get the lube. He poured some into his hands and dribbled some onto John. He pushed his finger back in, moving it slowly in and out. "Is this better?" he asked as he softly kissed John's thigh.

John nodded. "Feels good..." It was even better than the first time they had done it.

Sherlock slipped a second finger in and curled his fingertips. He licked John's balls as he built a steady rhythm with his hand. "What number would you give it?"

"Ten," John huffed out, because he felt so close.

"Okay, stop," Sherlock said, stopping his fingers. "Relax," he said. "I want you to feel good, but I'm not ready for the game to end." He slowly slid his fingers out and rested his head on John's hip. He stroked John's chest softly and then let his hand drift down to John's cock, which was basically right in front of his face. He brushed his fingertip against it, and then traced it up and down. "I never really saw the appeal of naked people," he mumbled, "but you are very sexy to look at." He leaned over and gave it a quick, soft kiss. "Feel a little more under control?" he asked as he looked up at John.

John nodded. "You get me so worked up," he murmured, petting Sherlock's hair. "Everything about you is pretty much a ten."

"I just want to make you feel good," Sherlock said softly. "It makes me feel good," he glanced down at his own erection, "but I'm trying not to think about it." He looked up at John's face. "Okay, we're at the end of the game now. I've got one more thing to try. If you want me to stop, say stop but you don't have to say a number this time. The only thing is you do have to do is stay quiet, okay? Ready?"

John's stomach twitched nervously and he nodded. He'd forgotten about being quiet and he really hoped he could keep it up.

Sherlock shifted his body slightly. "Oh yeah, one more rule: I want you to watch what's happening. Don't close your eyes." He leaned over John's body and held John's cock in his hand. He took John into his mouth, swirling his tongue to get it all wet. He pushed his head down to take John into his throat until he could feel himself gag. He lifted his mouth and then pushing down again, his head now bobbing as each time he took John further down his throat. He concentrated on controlling his muscles and relaxed into the movement. Then he slipped two fingers back into John, steadily mimicking the rhythm of his head. Sherlock could feel his own cock ache with desire. 

The effort to keep his eyes open during this intensity was the hardest thing John had ever done. This was a 40 on the scale, and he bit his lip hard to keep quiet as he hit the back of Sherlock's throat. When his fingers slipped back in John pushed down on them, panting very hard.

Sherlock kept moving his fingers, but lifted his head for a just a minute to look at John. "It's good," he whispered and then moved back, swallowing John down. He was getting quite good at taking him all the way in and pulling back right before he gagged. He shifted slightly so the movement of his own body pressed him against John's leg, giving his own cock a little attention.

"Please . . . please . . ." John begged breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut before remembering what Sherlock said. He snapped them open and gazed down at Sherlock. "Oh, Sherlock . . ." He was writhing in his attempt to keep still and hold on. 

"Let go, John," Sherlock whispered. He did his best to keep both his rhythms steady and watched for the change in John's body.

John grabbed the pillow and stuffed it over his face, groaning into it as he came hard. It was so intense he thought he might pass out. The buildup had led to this and it was incredible.

When John's body tensed, Sherlock kept him in his mouth and swallowed his come down. He slipped his fingers from John's body and quickly moved up to lie next to John. John seemed quite spent. "Are you okay?" he whispered. He snuck one leg over John, just to press against his hip.

John dragged the pillow away from his face and nodded breathlessly. He turned his hand and just fingered lightly at Sherlock's cock. He just needed one minute. Just to catch his breath.

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John's face. "You are gorgeous, I love what your body does," he said softly.

John smiled softly and began to sit up. "I love what you do. That was . . ." he sighed and got himself into a seated position. "Wow."

"I'm glad you liked it," Sherlock smiled. "It was so sexy."

"It was," John agreed, sitting between his legs. "Now . . . how close are you? How much can I go before its considered torture?" He smiled softly.

"I'll be honest, I don't think it'll take much," Sherlock said. "I felt like I almost could just from doing that to you." He tried to lean back just a little on the bed, as he reminded himself he had to be quiet.

"The number game might have to wait until you're not so excited, but I'd like to try some of the things you did to me," John said quietly.

"Okay," Sherlock said, "because right now just your being here by me feels like a nine." The things he had done to John flashed in his mind and he wondered how they would feel done to him.

John smiled before bending down and flicking his tongue over Sherlock's tip. He kissed along the shaft and slowly made his way lower, until he was kissing Sherlock's balls, nervously sucking one into his mouth.  Different, but not unpleasant. He tugged lightly as he sucked.

Sherlock squeezed the pillow with his fists. "Mmmm," he hummed. John's mouth was warm and was making Sherlock's skin wet. It was unusual to feel John's breath there.

John sucked in the other one, licking and moaning softly between his legs. Then he moved lower, taking a calming breath and licking his hole. Very different. He paused and then licked it harder.

Sherlock tried not to tense up -- he liked it but it was just unusual. He tried to sink into the bed, letting go. "The softness feels nice," Sherlock whispered.

John nodded, kissing the hole and around it before moving up the shaft again. "I want to take you in deep," John said quietly. "Hold on for me, okay?" He sucked Sherlock into his mouth and started bobbing up and down, slowly taking in more and more.

"I'll try," Sherlock said softly. He kept his eyes closed -- afraid that if he looked, he wouldn't be able to hold out.

John started to slow down so he could focus, pulling Sherlock now to the back off his throat, swallowing around him when he did.

Sherlock let out a small groan, trying to stay as quiet as possible. "John," he whispered, sneaking his hand down to touch John's hair. He wanted to arch up, but instead he just rocked his hips ever so slightly.

John tapped his hip to let him know it was okay to that. He paused deep, came up half way and took him deep again.

Sherlock started to move his hips, going with the rhythm of John's movements. He really wanted to make noise but did his best not to. 

A small sound escaped John with each push into his throat.  It felt good -- his lips stretched over Sherlock like that. He hoped Sherlock enjoyed it too. He grasped around for the lube and poured some onto Sherlock's hole, pushing a finger in slowly.

It was almost like too much was going on -- his hips were rocking, John's finger was moving in and out, John's mouth sucking him -- it was like feeling overload. "John, I'm going to . . ." he almost hissed and he could feel his muscles tighten and his body arch as he came.

John held him deep and swallowed around him, fingers still moving quickly in and out. His free hand was lightly rubbing Sherlock's lower stomach.

Sherlock fell back on to the pillow. "John," he said, ". . . I can't even speak."

John slowly pulled his fingers out, slid his mouth off of Sherlock and sat up, rubbing his thighs and hips as he caught his breath. 

"Come lie by me," Sherlock whispered. "Are you okay?"

John crawled up and lay beside Sherlock, gazing at him. "I'm all right. Are you? Did you like it all?"

"I loved everything. I worry I lose my mind when you do things to me," Sherlock said squeezing John to him.

"I'll draw it out next time -- make it better. The way you did it . . . it was so good." John pressed a kiss into his shoulder.

"I'm not sure it could be better. This was perfect," He kissed John's head. "And this time, there's no mess in the bed." He stretched his legs out then looked at his phone. "It feels like it should be so late but it's barely gone midnight."

John nodded. "All of this . . . took a lot out of me tonight. I never felt anything like that."

Sherlock was a little embarrassed that he felt so pleased hearing that, but he did. "In a good way, though, right?"

John chuckled softly. "Very good. I almost . . . passed out," he said.

"Is that good?" Sherlock said, smiling.

John nodded again. "I want to make you feel like that."

"It sounds a little scary," Sherlock said laughing. "John, I love how you make me feel."

"It was. I was terrified until you told me to let go."

"John, I don't want to terrify you! This doesn't feel as like a compliment anymore!" Sherlock said, pushing John's arm.

"I promise it was good!" He laughed softly. "I just didn't know what was going to happen next and it was just so intense. That was the scary part."

"Well, I'm glad you liked it all. I just like trying new things on you, seeing what they do to your body. I love doing it and I love seeing what it does," Sherlock said, stroking John's back lightly.

"I wish I thought of new things. I'm quite boring in bed," he smiled. "I don't know why you put up with me."

"Shut your face," Sherlock said, nudging him with his shoulder. "Have you forgotten that I have zero experience besides you? Everything you do to me is a new thing, you fool." He slid down a little and pushed his forehead into John's. "You're not boring. I love everything we do."

John smiled. "As long as you're happy," he said quietly. "And for no experience your imagination is fantastic," he grinned.

"I am happy but I also want you to be happy," he kissed John's nose. "Maybe it's because I've never done anything that I have to rely on my imagination for things to do. Or maybe it's because I was never interested in girls -- I'm not focused on just one thing like it seems the lads at school are."

"Just because you like a boy doesn't mean you're not a crazed sex maniac," he smiled. "I think about sex more with you than I ever did when I thought I liked girls."  
  
Sherlock liked hearing this. "I don't mean it like that. I mean it seems like all guys think about is sticking it in, almost like they're obsessed with getting it over with," he lifted his hand to John's hair and stroked it. "I, on the other hand, get to think about all the things I can do with you. Including sticking it in, obviously." He could feel his cheeks go red, but hoped John couldn't see in the dark. "I am happy to be considered a sex maniac, though I do object to the adjective crazed."

John smiled more genuinely. "They only care about sticking it in because they don't care who they're with. I like trying to find little spots that make you moan louder, playing little games with you to find what you like, trying to memorise every little sound . . . even when we have to be super quiet."

"You have permission to that every single day for the rest of our lives," Sherlock said, kissing him. "Though it'll be much easier when we're alone and can make more noise. It's really hard for me to stay quiet. I don't know why, but I just want to say your name over and over . . ."

John nodded. "The pillow worked all right," he said. _The rest of their lives._ He really liked the sound of that.

"I'm starting to get sleepy," Sherlock said. "I wish we didn't have college tomorrow, but at least it's Friday. We should do something fun this weekend. . . . Maybe we could spend some time in the shed as well . . ." he squeezed John to him, even though he knew he couldn't fall asleep like that. "Maybe we could skive in the afternoon or go to the cafe or something. It feels like forever since I've been there." He wiggled a little to get more comfortable.

"It has been a while," John agreed. "We can do that."

"I'm glad you're here, John," Sherlock said sleepily. "Do you mind if I turn on the radio? I'll keep it low."

"I only mind because you have to get up," John said quietly, turning onto his back to let him up.

Sherlock leaned over and turned on the radio. Then he slid back down and snuggled into John. "Tell me something nice," he whispered into John's skin.

John pulled a dramatic thinking face. "When you smile, especially at something I said, my legs go a bit numb."

Sherlock smiled at John and then said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to make your legs go numb." He could feel his body start to relax for sleep. "But I'm a little worried I seem to cause so many physical reactions -- I make your legs numb, I make you almost pass out. Perhaps I'm not every good for your health?"

"You're just what the doctor ordered," John smiled. "You know what else is nice? When you let me touch your hair, because I know no one ever does and I feel special."

"That's nice for me as well. For the same reason. Well, and because it feels good," Sherlock said. "You just tend to make me feel good all the time. Sometimes I go stupid because you make me feel so good. I guess that's the difference: I give you physical symptoms and you give me mental ones." He was smiling.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment. That I have managed to affect Sherlock's brain," he smiled softly.

"Well, you don't need to go telling people that," Sherlock said. "I've got a reputation to maintain, you know." He kissed John quickly. "You seem to know some of my secrets now."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise," John said quietly. 

"I hope it doesn't burden you," Sherlock said. "I'm more used to keeping my own secrets." He wanted to change the subject now. "I'm glad we don't have to be a secret though. Just because we don't kiss at college doesn't mean we have to be a secret. I don't like telling people things but I just prefer to be who I am and now this is part of who I am."

"It doesn't burden me," John assured him. "And when we go to university we can kiss all we want. It'll be better there," he said.

"I hope so," Sherlock said. "I hope the classes are challenging, but I hope everything else is easier. It'll be nice as long as we figure out how to disagree about things better. I won't be able to run away and you'll have to say something if you get upset. And no I'm not saying we're going to be fighting all the time, but at some point we'll disagree, John, and we'll need to do it properly."

"I know. But we didn't do that badly," he said.

"Well, you didn't. I'll try harder. It'll be easier when I'm away from my family probably. I don't know if I truly have upset you since we met, but please do tell me if I ever do. Promise?" Sherlock asked sincerely.

"I promise," John said. "You're perfect."

"Okay, I believe that you'll tell me," Sherlock said. "I doubt I'm perfect but for this moment, I'll believe that one as well." He smiled as he closed his eyes.

John smiled and closed his eyes with a small sigh. "Night, love."

In the morning, despite Sherlock's trying to tempt John to skive, they made their way to college. They had no classes together but ate their lunch outside and then walked back home. As he opened the door, Sherlock bent down to pick up the post. As he flicked through it, he saw an envelope with his name on it and slipped it, unopened, into his bag. He wondered if John had done a change of address form so he could get letters here -- Sherlock imagined being there when John received an acceptance letter to university and just the thought of it made him feel warm.

He made them some tea and they decided to drink it outside. They sat down and Sherlock said, "Things feel like they might be kind of normal now, well, given the circumstances, I mean." He looked over at John and smiled. "I mean, it really does just feel like you live here and you're my boyfriend and that's just what life is now." He felt his face redden a little. "It's good," he said, smiling. "But it does mean that we've got to focus now . . . on school and work, I mean. I know we've been keeping up with homework, but after all this whole thing started because you have to pass chemistry. You do have to pass, John. And I've . . . I've not really done any experiments or any of my work -- I've not written on my blog or anything. Maybe this weekend, we could try. Instead of focusing on . . . the other stuff we've been doing." He looked over at John nervously. "Are you mad at me for saying that?" 

John listened to Sherlock as he sipped his tea, smiling softly at him when he finished. "Sherlock, of course, I am not mad at you," he said. "I've pushed my way into your home and into your space and if I remember correctly it was your idea to give me my own room so I could work." He smiled and rubbed Sherlock's arm. "Let's pretend we live in separate flats next door to each other and if we want to hangout we have to text and make plans -- that way you have the option of saying 'no thanks, I'm busy' and it will be okay. How does that sound?" 

Sherlock liked John's hand on him. "I've kind of changed my mind already," he said, smiling. "I feel like taking you up to my bedroom right now." He lifted his hand to touch John's. "It's a good idea, though. But we can still sleep in the same bed, right?"

"Yeah," John smiled. "At the end of the night, the pretending will be over and we can sleep together still," he said. He leaned against Sherlock and sighed softly. "I think I want to call Harry again," he said quietly. 

"Well, that's good, I guess," Sherlock said. "Did you tell her about me?" Sherlock wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be. He was sure Harry wouldn't like him and he didn't even know if he would like her or if John would want him to. "It doesn't matter, by the way. I know it's nothing to do with me . . . I guess I don't know what to say."

"I did tell her about you -- that's why she thought I was confused," John smiled. "But I'll tell her how well it's still going and our plans for uni," he said.

"All right," Sherlock said. "But if she upsets you, come get me, yeah? Don't feel like just because we're 'neighbours' you can't come get me if you need me. Promise?" Sherlock said. He touched John's hand and then reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, which he lit as he finished his tea.

"I promise," John nodded, sitting up again while Sherlock smoked. He hugged his knees and thought about it. "I'm not as upset now so it should be okay."

"I hope so," Sherlock said. His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he took it out. He read the text. "Well, it turns out my parents aren't coming home tonight." He lifted his head and smiled cheekily. "Should we still work or should we have sex in every room in the house since we'll be on our own?"

"Is that a serious offer? That's the one I pick until we get to the neighbours business," John grinned.

Sherlock smiled back. "Well, let's think about this for a minute. Are we really going to go into the house and even have sex in one room and then we're going to separate and work? I seriously don't think that's going to happen. I mean, when we're at uni, we'll be alone but we won't be able to be shagging 24-7. Come on, John Watson. We need to be responsible," Sherlock said, standing up.

"Responsible?" John groaned dramatically, falling back into the grass. "I refuse."


	21. Experiment

Sherlock laughed. "Let's go work and really work -- don't spend the time thinking about sex stuff. If we both want to, we'll do some when we get in bed, okay?" He looked over and smiled.

"Okay fine," he agreed, sitting and then standing up.

"Come on," Sherlock said. "The sooner we start, the sooner it's time for bed." He led them back into the house and got out some biscuits and a couple bottles of water. "Here, in case you need them," he said, handing a bottle and the biscuits to John. "I mean, obviously just come down and get whatever you need whenever you want, okay? I think I'll work in my room for a bit, but if I need to go to the shed, I'll text you to let you know," he added, heading upstairs.

"Okay, I will," John promised. He went up to his own room and sat at his desk, opening his books and setting to work. He knew how important it was -- exams were around the corner.

Sherlock wrote out the plans for an experiment he had been considering a while ago but never got around to. He had ordered the materials -- they were still boxed up in the shed -- but he hadn't started. And then he'd met John. He stopped for a moment and thought of John, studying in the other room. They hadn't known each other long at all really, but he had changed everything about Sherlock's life. Which was mostly good. But Sherlock wanted to make sure it stayed like that. Not everything in Sherlock's life needed changing, and that was the same for John. Sherlock still had his work; John still had his interest in sports. It felt important that they didn't give those things up. That was part of Sherlock's motivation for suggesting a little separation.

At the same time, though, Sherlock was very, very tempted to go into John's room right now and pull him onto the bed and kiss him. He focused on his notes and told himself not to think of John until he was finished. He worked a while longer and then packed everything into his book bag. He got out his phone. 

_How is everything going? SH_

About half way through his chemistry John took a small break, sliding out of his chair and lying on the floor in front of the desk. He pulled out his phone and found Harry's number. He sighed heavily and pressed the call button. The ring cut off midway through the second one.

"John?" She sounded tentative.

"Hi Harry," John said quietly, looking under the bed now.

"How are you?"

"Not as angry with you," he admitted. "I'm still at Sherlock's -- it's going really well."

"So that's real, huh? Two in one family," she said and John could hear her shaking her head.

"Dad's dream come true," John said, looking at the ceiling again. "He's made no contact, by the way."

"I'm not surprised. Listen John . . ." Harry paused and took a long breath. "If you were getting anything -- money or help from him -- it's going to be gone now. I know you wanted to go to uni, I just want you to be prepared."

"I . . . he had an account," John got up and turned on the computer, getting to the bank's website. He logged in and checked the balance. Zero. "Fuck."

"I'm sorry, John. I don't have much -- I don't know how to help. Your boyfriend . . .couldn't he?"

John shook his head. "No. I won't ask him. I'll get loans or something. I'm find something."

"Keep me posted, okay?" 

John promised and hung up. He was still looking at the zero when Sherlock texted. 

_Good. Still working on chemistry. I'll be done soon. -JW_

He needed to find a funding option, his chemistry forgotten beside him.

_I'm going to go out to the shed to finish getting things organised to start tomorrow. Back in a bit. SH_

Sherlock stood up, heaved his bag over his shoulder and went downstairs. It was dusk now. He made a cup of tea and carried it out with him, unlocking the shed and slowly unpacking his things. He turned on the radio and got out everything he needed. He spread his notes out and read them over as he sipped his tea.

At his computer, John browsed through alternate options and loans seemed to be the only option. But years' worth of loans would be so hard to pay back -- there were no guarantees he'd find a job straight away. And then he found something else.

The army would train him up, send him to boot camp, and fund his schooling.. He emailed the local recruiter for more information, glancing towards Sherlock's room. He couldn't ask Sherlock for this much money. This was something he could do.

Sherlock found himself looking less at his notes and listening more to a radio show that caught his attention. It was about drugs -- well, chemicals really -- how the views of certain chemicals have changed through the years and how things that were once thought to be helpful were now illegal and how plants and herbs are becoming medical treatments again. He wasn't sure about everything he heard, but it was interesting. Then he realised he should either start the experiment or just finish for the night. He looked at his watch.

_It's almost ten. I think I'm done working for the night. Are you? I can read in my room until you're ready. SH_

John read the text and looked at his homework.

_I have a bit more but I can finish it tomorrow. My eyes are getting fuzzy with all of this chemistry. -JW_

Sherlock locked up the shed and made his way back into the house.

 _I'm going to get ready for bed now. Bring your fuzzy eyes to my room when you're ready for kissing. SH_  
  
He went upstairs to the bathroom. He washed his face and brushed his teeth and then went into his bedroom, changing into his pajamas. 

John smiled and changed into comfortable pajamas before brushing his teeth and heading over to Sherlock's room. "Can you give my eyes something good to see?" he grinned.

"Just my face, I guess," Sherlock said. "I missed you." His face flushed a little because it was kind of stupid, but it was totally true.

John crawled into bed and came close to him. "I missed you too. I'm glad you live so close," he teased.

Sherlock wrapped an arm around him. "Me too," Sherlock said. "The guy who used to live next door was a jerk. And nowhere near as handsome as you are."  
  
For a second John was thrown off before he remembered he was in Sherlock's brother's room. "Well, you don't have to worry about him now that I'm here," John smiled.

Sherlock reached over and kissed John's neck. "I like you much better," he said. "Do you want to put a film on or something? What do you want to do?"

"I don't think I could pay attention to a film at the moment," John murmured, tilting his head a bit and lacing his fingers into Sherlock's hair.

"I like kissing you," Sherlock said softly. He kissed him again. "Remember the things we did yesterday?"

John nodded. "I want to do them again . . . or different things . . .or more things," he rambled as he dipped to find Sherlock's mouth. 

"Like what? Is that what you were doing in your room -- watching porn films to come up with new ideas?" Sherlock pinched John's side lightly as he let him kiss his mouth.

John squirmed and chuckled softly. "No, you goof. But I want to maybe do it to you."

Sherlock pulled John closer. "I don't know . . . I'm kind of sore, if I'm honest. It's okay -- I'm not worried but maybe we shouldn't tonight."

"Do you want to do it to me? Or we could just kiss and cuddle, whatever you want," John smiled, pecking kisses on his lips.

"Could I do this?" Sherlock asked, sliding his hand down John's front to palm him through his pajamas. "Could I make this hard for you?"

John nodded. "It's already half way there," he said quietly, rolling his hips into Sherlock's hand. He wanted to go slow but his body immediately reacted to Sherlock.

"Are you sore at all? I mean . . . back there?" Sherlock said as he slid his hand inside John's pajamas and began stroking him.

"Not anymore," John breathed, the words fading into a soft moan. He reached his own hand out to palm at Sherlock at the same time.

Sherlock made a little hum. "Can you remember the first time we did this? I do, I'll never forget it." He moved over and kissed John again. He moved and lay flat on his back. "I promise I'll keep doing it to you in a minute, but would you just do it to me for a bit? Just with your hand . . . I like how you do it."

John nodded, kissing his mouth a bit hard. "Whatever you like," he smiled. He pushed his hand into Sherlock's pants, gripping hard but moving slow and steadily. He twisted and swiped his thumb over the tip, trying to make it as good as possible for him. 

"Do you like doing it?" Sherlock said, closing his eyes. 

"Yes, I love making you feel good," John murmured. He squirmed lightly, taking a deep breath to keep his patience.

"You do, John, you do make me feel good," Sherlock said, almost in a whisper. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on John's hand. "Stay doing it slow like that . . . it's kind of torture but a good kind."

John nodded and slowed down even more, now twisting his hand with every move up and down. His thumb still worked the tip occasionally, spreading the precome.

Sherlock took a long inhale and then breathed out slowly. "Okay, you'd better stop now," he said, opening his eyes and looking at John. "Let's kiss for a minute and then I can do you."

John nodded, pausing his hand but not letting go if Sherlock. He pressed his mouth to Sherlock's, kissing him slow and deep.

Sherlock leaned up into the kiss. He reached down, slid his hand into John's pajamas again and held him. All of a sudden it seemed so amazing that they were here, doing this. He smiled and whispered, "I'm so glad we met and all this happened."

"Me too," John said, trying to keep still for Sherlock to start when he wanted to. He loved Sherlock's hand on his body.

Sherlock sat up and moved a bit to push John onto his back. Then he pulled John's pajama bottoms all the way down and off and then began stroking him slowly. He lay down next to him, moving close and resting his head on John's shoulder. "I love you, John Watson," he said.

John moaned softly and tried to steady his panting. "I love you too, Sherlock." Heat was spreading quickly through his groin, making him squirm under Sherlock's hand.

"I'm glad you're here, I'm glad you live here," Sherlock said. His voice sounded different because his breathing was speeding up. It was almost as exciting doing this to John as when John did it to him.

"I . . . me too," John breathed.

"Do me now, too," Sherlock said. "So we can come at the same time." His hand tightened and sped up a little. He turned a bit on his side and sucked on the skin of John's neck.

John's hand started moving quickly, matching Sherlock's stroking as small sounds escaped his throat, mixing with Sherlock's. "M'so close . . ."

Sherlock didn't say anything but kept moving his hand, feeling the tension building in his own body. He let his hips jerk a little against John's movement and then suddenly he came, calling out John's name and trying to focus on making John come as well.

"Fuck," John gasped softly, his hand covered and spreading it all over Sherlock again. He came himself, moaning Sherlock's name over and over as the orgasm rocked through him.

Sherlock panted against John, moving his messy hand to wrap around John's body. "That was good," he said softly.

John curled into him and draped his own arm over Sherlock's waist, holding him close. "It was fantastic," he mumbled. He was so sleepy now.

"Do you want to go to sleep now? Or do you want to take a bath? We might both be able to fit in," Sherlock said. "If you're too sleepy, we can do it tomorrow." He kissed John's neck again and snuggled into him.

"Tomorrow," John murmured. "I'm so sleepy." He smiled and kissed Sherlock's shoulder.

"All right, sleepy head," Sherlock said. He leaned over and turned off the lamp and snuggled back against John. "I'll see you in the morning." He gave him a kiss on his cheek and then lay his head on the pillow.

But Sherlock wasn't sleepy yet. Maybe it was because his parents were gone and it really was like he and John lived together alone, but his head was full of thoughts of their lives together -- in this few short weeks and hopefully forever. He imagined them at university and then in their own flat and John could be a doctor and Sherlock would be -- well, something -- but they'd be happy. They'd never be mean to each other, they'd never ignore each other. They'd always be there for each other. It was good thought and one day it'd be true. He was sure of it.

John smiled softly and drifted off easily, snoring softly beside Sherlock. He was warm and comfortable, dreaming that they were in a flat instead of Sherlock's house. It was boring and at the same time the best dream he'd ever had.

In the morning, Sherlock felt John moving a bit but he didn't speak so Sherlock kept his eyes closed. It wasn't like avoiding college -- today would be good, he'd be doing his experiment and then they'd have the whole night together since Sherlock's parents weren't coming back until tomorrow morning. But lying here with John was one of the best feelings Sherlock ever had so he waited until John was awake and ready to wake up properly.

John was awake but not ready to get up, keeping his eyes closed and enjoying the warmth. He wondered if Sherlock was awake yet. He hummed and turned to look up at him, pressing soft kisses on his jaw. 

Sherlock smiled but kept his eyes closed. He slipped an arm around John. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," John smiled. "I was hoping you were up."

Sherlock opened his eyes. "Did you have a good sleep?" He stretched a little and then curled around John. "I'm freezing. You're warm."

"I did, yeah," John murmured. He rubbed Sherlock's back lightly. "Did you?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "I don't know if I dreamt. I don't remember any. Did you have dreams?"

"I think I saw good things because I feel good, happy," he smiled. "Are you working again today?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "We both should -- you said you had more to do, remember? I could easily be tempted not to, but we should, John." He looked over at John, momentarily thinking of abandoning the suggestion. Instead he said, "Not all day, though. We could have a date tonight. Either go out or order in. How about that?"  
  
John pouted playfully.  "I was going to follow you to the shed and attempt a distraction, but you have to be responsible and sensible." He smiled suddenly and kissed his lips. "I suppose I can try that later." 

"Maybe," Sherlock said. "Maybe if my experiment goes well, I can show it to you and then you could offer some kind of reward for my excellent work. And then I can check your chemistry if you want and offer the same." He reached under the covers and grabbed one of John's hips and squeezed it.

John nodded. "Okay. I like the sound of that. But I should get extra reward because I'm doing chemistry all on my own and it's so very hard for me." He grinned again as he sat up, stretching now.

"Fine. Tonight I'll reward you. I'll make it extra hard for you," Sherlock said, raising his eyebrows. He too stretched. "You probably want some breakfast?" he asked but didn't get out of bed just yet.

"I do," John nodded. "I'll reward you for that as well," he smiled.

Sherlock made a grumble but he stood up and slipped his dressing gown on. "What do you want? Eggs? I can make eggs. Some toast, yeah?" Sherlock said, heading downstairs. He put the kettle on first.

John followed, nodding. "That sounds good. Want me to help?"

"Here," Sherlock said, pushing a loaf of bread towards him. "Can you cut some slices? I'll have a couple." He started the scrambled eggs and then popped the bread into the toaster. He scooped the finished food onto two plates and brought them over to the table.

John nodded and started slicing the bread, humming softly. "It's easy to pretend it's our place, that we live here together. Alone," he smiled.

"Have you liked it?" Sherlock asked. "Do you think you'd like to live like this for real -- when we go to university?"

"Yes I would," John answered easily. He brought the bread over to the table with butter and jam. "Would you like to share a dorm room with me?"

"Maybe," Sherlock said. "It might be better if we got a place off campus, though. I'm not good around other people. You know . . ."

"Oh, yeah," John nodded. "I can get a job to help with rent," he smiled. Depending on how much the army gives him. He looked at Sherlock and bit his lip, busying himself with spreading jam. He would tell Sherlock when he knew more.

"Don't worry about that," Sherlock said. "I can pay the rent." He ate a few bites of eggs, even though he hated eating in the morning. "Your eggs all right?"

"Great," John smiled. "And I'll help with the rent because I'm not going to just leech off of you. I want to help."

"Whatever," Sherlock said. "We'll sort it. Now," he added, standing up. "I'm going to go have a shower and then get started. You can leave those dishes in the sink and I'll wash them later."

John nodded and started putting food away but when Sherlock left, he washed the dishes as well. He went up to his room after and started his chemistry, eager to get it done and out of the way.

After his shower, Sherlock packed up some things and headed out to the shed. He smiled as he passed through the kitchen, noticing that John had done the washing up. He turned on the radio and began his work.

After a few hours, he took out his phone.

_Everything going all right? It's not too hard already, is it? SH_

_Depends what you're talking about. Just kidding. I have a few more and I'll be done. -JW_

John smiled and left his phone out as he continued quickly. But he tried to focus -- he wanted to be done but he also wanted them right.

_No funny business. I'm going to make a cup of tea and then I'll finish. If you're done before me, come out to the shed if you want. SH_

John had just finished the last problem when Sherlock's text came through.

_All done. Quick shower and I'll be right out. -JW_

John grabbed fresh clothes and went for a shower, cleaning up quickly. He dressed and headed out, bringing two water bottles with him. "Hello?"

"Hey," Sherlock said. He looked up and John looked quite handsome, all fresh-faced. "Are you all done with your work?"

"Yes," John nodded, handing Sherlock his bottle of water. "Have you finished yours?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Sherlock said. "I was just writing up my notes so I'll have them when I do the blog post. Since you're such a chemistry expert now, do you want to have a look?" He stepped a bit away from the table and pointed towards the beakers.

John shook his head without getting closer. "I'll ruin something," he said. He moved closer to Sherlock, towards the empty part of the bench. "I'll look over here though," he smiled.

"But it's really fascinating --" Sherlock said and then stopped short. It wasn't really fascinating to John, he knew that. Why would it be? "Anyway, just let me tidy up and then we can do something. Did you decide about dinner?" He made a few more notes and then started to pack things away.

John moved behind him and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. "I haven't thought about it to be honest," he said. He kissed the back of Sherlock's neck. "Did you think about it?"

"Hmmm . . . let's see. I rarely think about food even when I'm bored out of mind. I've spent all day working on something important, do you think I spent much time thinking about food?" Sherlock said, glad John was by him even if he wasn't interested in the experiment.

John kissed the back of his neck again and peeked around his shoulder. He had to get on his toes to see properly. "What were you working on?" He asked softly.

"Just some stuff," Sherlock said. "It doesn't matter." He couldn't tell if he was annoyed or not. He knew there was no reason to be -- it's not like he'd be thrilled to go to one of John's rugby games. But still . . . "Anyway, you look all nice and handsome. Does that mean you want to go out on a date?" He turned around to face John.

"I'm sorry I brushed off the experiment," he said quietly. He almost pulled away, feeling silly now that Sherlock wasn't playing along. "Tell me about it," he smiled.

"It's all right, John," Sherlock said, pulling John closer. "I was just being a baby. It's not fair to make you look today after you've spent all this time already looking at science stuff." He leaned in and gave John a kiss on the neck. "Mmmm, you taste nice."

"Had a shower," he murmured.  "How will I reward you if I don't know what you've done?" He smiled softly as he asked, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"I discovered the cure for cancer," Sherlock said, sucking on John's neck. "Isn't that worth rewarding?"

John moaned softly. "Yes -- that deserves three rewards," he murmured between his soft panting.

"And how many rewards do I owe you?" Sherlock said, as he moved his hands to John's hips and began rocking John against his own body.

John slowly turned them and put Sherlock against the table again, rocking his hips in sync with Sherlock's. "The chemistry was really hard," he said, pushing both hands into Sherlock's shirt. His skin always felt so smooth and warm.

"John," Sherlock exhaled at his touch. "Show me what you dreamt that one time . . . before all this . . ." He buried his head in John's neck, kissing and sucking the skin.

John opened Sherlock's jeans and tugged them down with his pants. "Climb up," he murmured, glad that the table wasn't too high. He kissed Sherlock's mouth, stroking his cock lightly and slowly.

Sherlock pushed himself up onto the table and leaned back on his hands. He watched John's hand move to hold him and then he looked down at John's face. "You're so handsome," he mumbled quietly, not sure what else he should be doing.

"You are," John said quietly. "In my dream I sucked you off and did it to you, but I didn't bring a condom with me so I'll just use my fingers, okay?"

Sherlock felt his face flushed -- partly from the words John said and partly from excitement. "All right," Sherlock said. "Start slow though until I know I'm not too sore. What should I do while you . . .?"

"I'll go slow," John promised. "Just enjoy it, okay?" He pushed Sherlock's legs a bit, exposing his hole. He flushed as he spit on it, having no choice as he'd forgotten the lube as well. He massaged slowly, sucking Sherlock into his mouth. As he slowly bobbed up and down he pressed his finger gently into Sherlock.

"Oh god, John, can I lie down? I'm going to have to lie down," Sherlock said, lowering himself flat on the table. He reached down to touch John's shoulder. "Fuck, that feels good," he said. He closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe.

John hummed his agreement and hollowed his cheeks, trying to make Sherlock focus there before slowly adding a second finger. He pumped them slowly, stretching him carefully.

Sherlock opened his eyes and stared up at the shed's ceiling. He never thought something like this would ever happen in here. He could feel his body move slightly on the table, rocking against John's movements. "Don't stop, John," he moaned softly.

John curved his fingers lightly and stroked Sherlock's prostate, sucking all the way down and swirling his tongue around Sherlock. His own cock ached in his pants as he moaned around Sherlock.

Sherlock called out when John brushed his prostate. "John, please, I can't . . . it's too good -- I'm going to . . ." He gripped John's shoulder again and felt all the muscles in his body started to tense and then they released and he came, arching against the table. 

John swallowed around him -- it was getting easier -- and kept his fingers moving steadily through his orgasm. When it was over he slowly pulled his mouth off first and then his fingers. He kissed Sherlock's hip. "All right?"

Sherlock nodded as he tried to catch his breath. "Did you like it?" he huffed out. "Was it like you imagined?"

John nodded. "I like making you feel good here . . .in your favourite place," he smiled.

Sherlock sat up and tried to tuck himself in a bit. "Well, you definitely did," he said. "I hope I'll be able to concentrate in the future, without just thinking of that and getting a hard-on every time."

"Stay focused," John scolded playfully. He smiled and kissed Sherlock again.

Sherlock slid off the table and straightened himself out a bit. Then he moved close, slid his arms around John and kissed him. He felt John's hardness press against him. "Do you want to do something about that?" he asked. "Or should we sort out dinner?"

"I'd like to take care of this," he murmured. "But I can wait if you want to do dinner first."

"I'll help," Sherlock said. He unzipped John's trousers as he kissed his mouth and then neck. He got down onto his knees and used a hand to pull John's cock out before kissing and licking the tip as he stroked the rest.

"H-here?" John stammered, lacing his fingers into Sherlock's hair. It felt good, always good, and there was something better about sharing the experience here.

"Why not?" Sherlock said, looking up at him and smiling. "Perhaps it'll make you more interested in chemistry." He kissed John's abdomen and then sucked his cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. He held the base with one hand and then started to bob his head. His other hand moved behind John's body and gripped his thigh.

John huffed out a hard breath, moaning Sherlock's name. He was close already, worked up from before.

Sherlock moved his head in a rhythm, trying to take John as deep as he could. He hummed around him, tasting the precome.

"I'm . . . Sherlock please," John murmured, tugging his hair in warning. But it only took a few seconds more and he was coming, bending to steady himself on the table as the waves weakened his legs a bit. "God, Sherlock."

Sherlock loved the feel of John's hand in his hair. He prepared himself for John's orgasm, swallowing down all he could and wiping the rest from his face. He looked up at John and then slowly lifted himself up, so that John could lean against him. "Hmmm . . . are we sure we want dinner now that we've both had that?" he said, smiling stupidly at him.

John chuckled breathlessly as he stood straight again, meeting Sherlock's gaze. He changed his voice to sound like a commercial announcer. "Your boyfriend's come is part of a well balanced diet." He laughed harder and hit his face in Sherlock's shoulder. 

"Fine," Sherlock said. "Then I'm full up."


	22. Chair

John looked over at Sherlock's silly face, and it flashed in his mind the first time he'd come into this shed, and all that had changed since then.

"What now? Why are you looking at me funny?" Sherlock asked as he fiddled with John's hair a little.

"Come on," John said, pulling him. "Will you check my work while I make us dinner? Do you have chicken and potatoes?"

"No, I mean, yes, I'll check your work but let's order something. Besides, we'll have chicken and potatoes with my parents tomorrow. Come on," he said, handing John a box of beakers. "Let's go in and I'll wash these up while you choose what you want and we'll get it delivered."  
  
"Oh, okay," John said, liking the delivery idea better. But not the family dinner part. "We're having dinner with them?"

"Yeah, we do on Sundays but last weekend they were away," Sherlock said. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." He handed the box to John while he locked the shed. "Come on, we're alone tonight -- don't think about them until we have to." He led them back into the house.

John followed behind him and tried to stop being nervous about the family dinner. "So what will we do tonight?"

"Whatever we want," Sherlock said. "We could go on a walk or have a bath or watch a film. Whatever." Sherlock slid some take-away menus over to John and then moved to the sink to wash up his stuff. "Choose the food, though, before you get carried away thinking of perverted activities for the evening."

"Chinese? I'll have chicken fried rice," John said, setting the menus down on the counter again. "And I'm already a bit carried away!"

"Can you call? I'll just have fried rice. You know the address, right? I meant to ask, have you changed things so your post will come here? You should, you know," Sherlock said, fiddling in the sink.

"Yeah, I know the address. I just used it for . . . uni stuff," he changed quickly, picking up the phone and calling to place the order before Sherlock could ask questions.

When John came back, Sherlock said, "I don't really fancy talking about it, but . . .I know I've not done enough preparing for uni and all, but I just want you to know when the time comes, we'll sort it out together, okay?" He dried his hands on a towel. "All right, enough of that. Let's tidy up so my parents don't give us any hassle tomorrow." He started putting away some of the dishes they'd left drying and sorted the post into piles for his parents. "Don't worry about tomorrow, okay? It won't be like Twenty Questions or anything. We just eat in the same room, that's it, I promise." He sat down next to John and leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.

"I know they are quiet mostly but I'm just nervous about it," John admitted. What if they started asking about his family? Everything seemed so nice here and he really didn't want to have to discuss his drunk sister and abusive father.

"You've already met them both and you know what they're like -- they'll talk like we aren't there until they ask if we're fine and we'll say we are," Sherlock said. "It'll be okay, trust me, yeah? Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," John said easily. "I just don't want them to ask too many questions about my family."

"They won't," Sherlock said. He knew they wouldn't, but he couldn't bring himself to actually say that his parents probably didn't care one iota about John's family. "Look," Sherlock said, turning John's chair towards him, hoping to change the subject. "If you trust me, what new thing are you going to let me do to you tonight?"

John looked up at him now, cheeks burning slightly. Before he could answer, the food arrived and John had a serious think about it while Sherlock was answering the door. When he came back John shrugged. "What do you have in mind?"

"We can do whatever you want," Sherlock said. "I found your shed idea quite satisfactory. Got any other ones?"

"Well, now it's your turn, isn't it?" John grinned, sticking his tongue out at him.

"My turn to what?" Sherlock said. "To come up with ideas?" He closed his eyes. "Hmmm . . . I might have a few."

"That was fast," John smiled. "How long have you had these ideas?"

"I don't know . . . an image just popped into my head," Sherlock said. "You might not like it. It's not anything weird, it just in a different position, I guess."

"What is it?" John asked, nudging him lightly and smiling.

Sherlock felt his face flushing even though he wished it wouldn't. "Um . . . on a chair . . . sitting up, I mean," he said quietly.

"Like me sit in your lap?" John asked, instinctively lowering his voice as well.

"Well, that would make sense since I'm taller . . . on the other hand, I could sit on yours since I might be a little lighter and my legs are longer so it might be easier for me to . . . move," Sherlock said. "Either way is fine . . . what do you think?"

"Oh, I thought you meant doing it to me," John said. He was imagining it now -- both ways -- and he felt his stomach warm pleasantly.

"Do you not like to do it to me, John? Please be honest. . ." Sherlock said, a little worried.

"I like both!" John said quickly. "I do like it, Sherlock. I promise. Do you?"

Sherlock looked over at John. "You don't have to like everything, John, just . . . make sure you tell me. I don't know about any of this stuff . . . I don't know how to tell if you're only doing something, you know, just because you think I like it. I only like the stuff you like as well . . . I mean, do you know what I mean? I'd hate it if we did something that you didn't really want to do," he reached over and touched John's arm. "I like to do it to you and I also like when you do it to me. The chair was just an idea. We can try however you want or forget about it . . . I just worry I will get confused. I'm sorry." He leaned over and rested his head on John's shoulder.

"Sherlock, love, I like doing it to you and having it done. We're allowed to like different things. Let's try the chair so I can ride you," John said.

"That's a weird way of saying it," Sherlock said. "All right, should we do that then? Tonight, I mean?"

"Is that what you meant though?" John asked, turning to face him properly.

"I guess that's what I thought of first but after the shed thing, I guess I thought about you doing it to me," Sherlock said. "But I like doing it to you also. Let's stop talking about it -- I feel stupid because I get worried."

"I'm sorry," John said. "Let's just see what happens, okay?"

"Just finish your food so we can get upstairs in my chair," Sherlock said, smiling. He took a few bites of his and the put the rest back in the container. He turned the kettle on after he put his food into the fridge. Once John was finished, Sherlock brought over the tea. "It's weird now," he said. "I feel like I've made too big of a deal of it all. When we finish our tea, let's just say we're going upstairs to watch a movie, okay? Then perhaps some kissing might occur and then we can --" he raised his eyebrows up and down in a silly way. "Anyway, did you feel okay about work today? I know I haven't checked it yet, but I will if you want me to. More importantly, though, are you feeling more confident about chemistry?" He took a sip of tea.

"I think so. I'm pretty sure my homework is right," John said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I knew from the beginning you could do it. You just needed a handsome tutor to bribe you with sex to make you actually believe in yourself." He got up to wash the dishes. Once they were done and put away, Sherlock grabbed some water and led them upstairs. "Do you want to pick out the movie?" he asked, flopping on the bed. He leaned over and got the lube and condoms out, setting them on the bedside table. "Just in case," he added, smiling widely.

"No, let's just browse the telly and see what happens -- I mean see what's on," he grinned back.

"All right," Sherlock said. He flicked on the television and handed the remote to John. Once John was settled in, Sherlock turned and squeezed against him, nuzzling his neck a little.

John flipped through the channels aimlessly, more focused on Sherlock than what he was passing up on the telly. He smiled, leaning to the side a bit.

Sherlock kept moving his mouth against John's neck and then lifted a hand to rest on John's belly. His fingers fiddled with John's belt buckle but he didn't try to undo it yet. He moved one of his own legs over John's and scooted even closer.

John's belly twitched under his hand and he tried to hold still. "Not much on," he murmured, trying to sound as if he couldn't feel what Sherlock was doing.

"Too much on," Sherlock said cheekily, starting to open John's belt. He laughed a little at himself. "Yes, I did just use a cheesy seduction line -- please forgive me." He leaned up and kissed John, still smiling widely, as he continued to open John's trousers.

John grinned stupidly, shifting to help Sherlock take his trousers off. "I don't know, Sherlock -- that was pretty out of control," he said.

"Well, whatever, it worked, didn't it?" Sherlock said. He sat up and started to take off his own trousers. "We should keep our shirts on, I think. Or should we take them off?"

"Hmm . . . I think it'll be sexy if we leave them on -- like we got so caught up in it all we couldn't even bother to get fully undressed," John grinned. He wondered if they were still going to the chair but didn't ask -- he preferred this to be natural.

Sherlock slid on top of John. He was already getting hard. He gripped John's arms and rolled his hips against him as he kissed his mouth, hard and long and a little sloppily. 

John moaned into the kiss, at having Sherlock's weight on him and the feel of their cocks rubbing together. He loved everything about Sherlock - everything he did. 

Sherlock pulled John's arms up above his head as he continued to kiss John's mouth. Then he dropped down and sucked on John's neck, squeezing their hands together. "You're sexy," he moaned softly.

John huffed out a breath and laced their fingers, holding Sherlock's hands as he leaned his head against the headboard.

Sherlock pulled them up a bit, so that John was sitting properly and he was sitting in John's lap. "Like this," he whispered. "Here or on the chair? Should we try? Can I do it to you this way, please?" He pressed himself against John, pushing him back against the headboard.

John nodded. "Yes -- yes please," he breathed. "How? Just . . . tell me what to do."

Sherlock moved down the bed a bit, putting kisses on John's chest, belly and then lower abdomen. He wiggled in between John's legs. "Hand me the lube," he said softly.

"Can we go to the chair?" John murmured, grabbing the lube.

"Just be patient," Sherlock said. He licked a stripe up John's cock and then poured some lube into his hand. He rubbed between John's legs, even covering his balls. "Everything okay down here? Not too sore?" he asked, letting his fingertips brush across John's hole.

John nodded, biting at his lip.

"Here," Sherlock said, leaning up and pulling one of John's hands down. "Rub yourself some. I want to see how you do it to yourself." He kept rubbing his fingers between John's legs before slowly pushing one finger part of the way in.

John gripped his cock and stroked slowly, twisting his hand as he did. "Like this," he moaned softly.

Sherlock watched John's hand as he started to move his finger in and out of John. He shifted his body slightly, pressing himself against the bed to get some pressure against himself. "That's sexy," he said softly, almost mesmerised.

"I think of you when I do it," John moaned softly.

Sherlock rocked a little against the bed. He slid a second finger into John, stretching him. "Does this feel good -- what I'm doing with my fingers, I mean?"

"Yes," John nodded, panting harder. "Sherlock, it's . . .I need more." His own hand started moving faster with his need.

Sherlock stretched his fingers apart and pumped them a bit faster and harder. "Get a condom out," he said. "Give it to me."

Heat flooded through John as he moaned and writhed against his fingers. It felt so good. He reached for a condom and passed it over to him, leaning forward between his knees to kiss Sherlock as he stroked himself.

"Come on, get up," Sherlock said, sliding his fingers out, rolling the condom on and pouring more lube into his hand. He got up and moved over to his chair, starting to stroke himself. "Come over here," he said impatiently.

John looked over at him, surprised by his tone, but even more by the lovely heat it sparked in his groin. He scrambled to follow, waiting until Sherlock sat down to climb into his lap. He hovered over his cock.

Sherlock moved one hand to John's hip and held his cock to line up with John. "Lower yourself down, go slow," he said, looking up at John's face.

John met his gaze and held it as he sank down, moaning softly as he felt Sherlock filling him up. When he was sitting in Sherlock's lap again he paused, taking deep breaths and pressing their foreheads together.

Sherlock gasped a little at the feeling and then looked up. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?" he said, realising that he wasn't breathing properly so he tried to inhale and exhale.

"No, yes, it's good . . . so full this way," John moaned softly. He tightened around Sherlock, still not moving.

"It feels good," Sherlock said. He wrapped his arms around John and lifted his hips just a bit. "God, it does, John." He pushed his face into John's shoulder.

"I--ah--I'm going to move now, okay?" John said, starting a slow rhythm going up and down on Sherlock's cock.

"Fuck," Sherlock moaned. "This is . . . more intense than I was expecting. Put your arms around me," he begged. It felt unusual but so, so good. He squeezed John tight.

John looped his arms around Sherlock's neck, holding him close as he moved a little faster. It was incredible. John was moaning Sherlock's name every time he sank down, his panting breath mixing with Sherlock's between them. 

"John, it's . . ." Sherlock moaned. He lifted his hands to John's shoulders and pulled him down against his lap. He was making small grunts but he didn't care what he sounded like -- it just felt enormously good. 

John followed his example and pushed down harder so that every movement made Sherlock thrust sharply into his body. He leaned forward a bit so Sherlock would hit his prostate. His legs burned but it was so very good. "Sh-Sherlock . . . it's so, so good."

"I've changed my mind," Sherlock huffed, pulling John's shirt over his head and dropping it on the ground. He took his own shirt off. "I want us to be naked." He kissed John's mouth and then dropped a hand to John's cock. It was still slick from lube, and he started stroking hard and fast.

John whimpered before moaning Sherlock's name loudly. "Sherlock, I'm close." He brought his hands around to Sherlock's chest, rubbing over his nipples and holding his sides.

Sherlock closed his eyes. He kept pumping John, concentrating on the feeling of his body moving up into John's. "You first," he panted.

John slammed his mouth onto Sherlock's and came hard, squeezing around Sherlock as he sank down and shuddered, moaning into the kiss.

As John tightened around him, Sherlock knew he was just about ready to explode. He moved his hands quickly to John's shoulders and pushed him down once more, lifting his hips as best as could to go deep and then he came as well, dropping his head against John's chest, panting heavily.

"God, oh God," John murmured over and over, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck again and petting his hair.

"John, I loved that . . . I did," Sherlock mumbled. "It . . . you. . . you felt so good."

"You did too," John murmured, pressing soft kisses to his temple. "Felt so deep . . . I liked it."

"God, we've made a mess," Sherlock said, looking down. John's come was all over his belly and he could feel his own leaking out of the condom. "I feel like it'd be really romantic to pick you up and carry you to the bed, but there's no way I have the strength for that. I'm a bit stiff from sitting in this chair. Can you get up and hand me my shirt and I'll clean it up?"

John shifted and slowly eased off of Sherlock's cock, his legs a bit weak as he bent to hand Sherlock his shirt. The empty feeling right after was the worst part.

Sherlock took off the condom and threw it in the bin. Then he cleaned up his belly and legs and the bit that had got on the chair. He moved over to the bed and pulled back the covers before sliding in. "You exhaust me," he said, smiling.

John climbed in beside him and scoot close to him. "I could say the same." He smiled and stifled a yawn badly. "M'sleepy again." 

Sherlock reached over and turned out the light. "I love you, John," he said quietly and quickly, curling around him.

"I love you too, Sherlock." John rested against him, closing his eyes.

Sherlock could feel everything in his body slowing down and he knew it wouldn't be long until he was asleep. "It's been good, hasn't it?" he said, almost in a whisper. "Working but still being together . . ."

John hummed his agreement. "Very good, productive," he said.

"I'll see you in the morning, John Watson," Sherlock said, before closing his eyes and falling to sleep.

"See you," John said quietly. A few minutes layer he was dozing off, falling asleep against Sherlock. 

Sherlock was sleeping lightly when he heard a noise outside. He opened his eyes. He listened again, but it was nothing. He knew he was sometimes over-sensitive to noise when his parents weren't in the house. He closed his eyes again but it was too late: he was awake. He looked over at John sleeping next to him and watched his chest rise and fall in the darkness. Then he slipped out of bed and moved to his desk, turning his chair away so the light from his laptop did not shine directly on the bed.

He logged onto his website and began typing up his notes from his experiment today. It really was quite a good one. He added a few links and then published it. He was reading it over when a notification of a comment popped up. This was curious indeed. He clicked on it.

_Absolutely brilliant. Now I know why you've been too busy to write. But I've missed your words. And you._

Sherlock stared at the words for a minute until his eyes hurt. Then he glanced over at John in his bed and then back at the words. He typed a reply.

_Sorry._

It was stupid, he knew. Moments later another message came through.

_It won't be long. I still look forward to it as I have every single day for the last year._

Sherlock deleted all three messages and closed his laptop. He slipped back into bed and tried not to think until he fell asleep again.

John woke up feeling happy again and wished he could remember his dream. He looked over at Sherlock, who was still sleeping, but this time he didn't bother him. He watched him happily, memorising his face.

When Sherlock woke up, he looked at John and smiled. "Have you heard anything yet -- are my parents home?" he asked sleepily.

"I don't think so," he said. "I was watching you so I was a bit lost." He smiled shyly and chuckled. "Sorry."

"Well, let's get up and take a shower together and then we'll be all ready when they get back," Sherlock squeezed tightly into John.

"Shower together?" John grinned. "If you don't slow down with these good ideas, I'll never catch up!"

Sherlock slid out of bed, pulling his dressing gown around him. He picked out some clean clothes and then said, "Come on then."  
  
John followed behind him. "Do we have time to be a little naughty?"

"No," Sherlock said. "We should get going." He looked over at John. "I mean, we can kiss in the shower but we shouldn't start anything else -- they could be home anytime."  
  
"Okay," John said. "But a quick blow job can take as long as kissing and you can still wash my hair so it's productive."

"Don't be such a sex addict, John," Sherlock teased. He turned the water on. "I like it hot, is that okay?" Then he dropped his dressing gown and stepped in. It felt good on his muscles, which were feeling rather sore.

"Not an addict! I was just saying," John smiled. He climbed in with Sherlock and slowly got himself into the water, smiling up at him. He grabbed the shampoo and got started, handing the bottle to Sherlock.

Sherlock lathered his own hair and then began work on John's. He got the hair all soapy and then massaged his scalp before pulling him towards him and kissing him hard. "Good morning properly," he said but then the water got on both of their faces and his eyes started to sting so he rinsed his head and then pushed John under. "Sorry," he said. "I was trying to be romantic but it backfired."

John rinsed his eyes while laughing, shaking his head. "This is what happens when you tease me!"

"I said sorry," Sherlock said. Once they were okay, he pulled him close again and kissed him. "Give me the soap," he said, in his most romantic voice.

John shook his head again before handing Sherlock the bottle. "Careful now -- if you get naughty again I will too," he teased.

"I'll be good," Sherlock said. He washed and rinsed himself and then made a move to get out. He dried himself off and started getting dressed. "I think they're home," he said. "I think I heard noise from downstairs."

John turned off the water and reached for a towel, drying off in the tub. "Should you go out first just in case? Will they know we were both in here?" 

"It doesn't matter. They're downstairs and why should they care anyway? We're legally adults. We can have a shower together if we want, you goof," Sherlock said smiling. He finished brushing his teeth and then fiddled with his hair. "Anyway, I'm done now so get dressed and then we'll go down together."

'I know but still," John said, getting dressed quickly before brushing his own teeth. "Okay. I'm ready."


	23. Family Dinner

They stopped at Sherlock's room before heading downstairs. Sherlock spoke briefly to his parents about their time away and told them he and John had been working on school work since exams were coming up. Sherlock made some tea and then said that he and John were going to the back garden to drink it.

"All right," his mother said mindlessly, focusing on her recipe. "Oh yes, I forgot to mention, your brother's coming for dinner."  
  
Sherlock stopped walking. "Mycroft? Why? What's wrong?"

"Yes," she said, oblivious to Sherlock's reaction. "He'll be here within the hour."  
  
Sherlock rushed outside. "John," he said. "This isn't good. He never comes here without a motive. Something's going on. I feel a bit sick," he confessed.

"Hey, calm down," John said, holding his cheeks to focus his gaze. "Maybe they ran into him or something," he said, faltering on coming up with another reason. He didn't even know this man. "It's going to be okay, yeah?"

"It probably won't be, John," Sherlock said. "I mean, we'll survive it. But he'll ask questions. We don't have to answer them, but he will ask them." He didn't want to make John worried but he couldn't help it -- he himself was worried.

"About what? Us -- like our relationship?" John asked, starting to feel nervous himself. 

"About anything . . . everything. He has to know everything all the time. He's just . . . obnoxious like that," Sherlock said looking down. "Look, sorry, I didn't mean to . . . it'll be fine. We've been through worse and you'll have to meet him at some point. It might as well be today, right?" He looked over and made a feeble smile.

"Is it too late to run off?" John asked, half joking in an attempt to calm both of them down. 

"No," Sherlock said. "Besides I've tried that . . . it doesn't work." He smiled and took a sip of tea. They talked about John's chemistry and what their classes has in store for the week. Eventually Sherlock said, "He's just arrived. I hear them talking. He'll be out here soon."  
  
Moments later, Mycroft came out. "Sherlock," he said, as a greeting. "And this is?"

John looked up at Mycroft who looked nothing like Sherlock. "I'm John -- John Watson," he said. He glanced at Sherlock nervously before saying, "I'm his boyfriend." He was bound to find out anyways, and they shouldn't have to hide it after everything they've been through. 

"So I hear," Mycroft said. Then there was silence. "Could I have a quick word, Sherlock?"  
  
Sherlock stood up and followed Mycroft back towards the house. They went inside to the sitting room.

"Is this a good idea, brother?" Mycroft asked.

"It's fine, everything's good. You can just butt out," Sherlock said.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock. "Isn't that what you said about your last boyfriend? Is that still good?"  
  
Sherlock's face went red. "He wasn't my boyfriend and you know that. He was . . . I don't know what he was but he's not anything to me now. So that's fine as well. That's done with and this -- with John -- this is all that matters."

"Does he still write to you?"

"Sometimes," Sherlock lied. "But I don't write back," he added quickly because that was true. He hadn't sent a letter since this all began with John and he had no intention of ever doing so again. "That's all past. Please . . . just let that go and be nice to John. He's nice to me -- I know you don't care about things like that but now . . . now I do. Just leave us alone."  
  
"I'm only trying to protect you -- you know that, don't you?" Mycroft said.

"I know you think you are but just . . . I'm grown up now. I can look after myself. Please," he added, more desperately than he meant to sound.

"Get your 'boyfriend' and come in for dinner," Mycroft said, turning to go find their parents.

Sherlock went back outside and over to the table. "It's okay," he said quietly. "Come on, it's time to eat."

"What happened? He didn't say anything stupid, did he?" John asked, as if he was going to go in there and do something about it if he had.

"Everything he says is stupid," Sherlock said. "Well, not really. Everything he says is annoying. It's all right. We'll all right." He reached out for John's hand and walked him into the dining room. He pulled out a chair for John and then sat down next to him. The food was already on the table.

John waited for someone to start before helping himself, stealing glances at Mycroft and then between Mycroft and Sherlock as they ate. Everyone was quiet for the moment: John had been nervous about lots of questions but this was almost worse. He wanted to sink under the table and hide somewhere until it was all over. He scooted his leg so his knee was touching Sherlock's lightly which made him feel better.

"And how are you doing, having a new son-in-law at the house, Mother?" Mycroft finally said.

"Son-in-law?" their father asked.

"Sherlock's friend, he means," their mother said, nodding towards John. "It's been just fine. No trouble. He's been keeping Sherlock busy and I guess . . ." she glanced over at Sherlock, ". . . it's been good, hasn't it? You and your friend being here has been good."  
  
Sherlock said, "His name's John." He shot a look at Mycroft. "As I said, it's all fine."

"Good indeed," Mycroft said, folding and refolding the napkin on his lap. "Yes, he seems like a nice enough chap. Nice to have friends our own age, don't you think, Sherlock?"

Sherlock said, "Don't speak about him in the third person -- he's right here."

"Fine," Mycroft said. "John, have you enjoyed being here? Are you finding it as 'good' as everyone else seems to think it is?"

John was listening to them speaking and pushing his food around. He was actually startled to have a question directed to him. "Yes, it's been good," John said. 

"Good, then, everyone's happy," Mycroft said as if the conversation were over. He took a drink of water. "And your family? They're happy you're here?"

John flushed lightly. "Uh, yeah. My sister is much older -- not at home," he said.

"And your parents?"

John shook his head. "It's just my dad," he said. He really didn't want to have to explain this. "He doesn't care."

"That's a shame," Mycroft said. "A loving family is so important. And does he not care about your future? Sending you to university?"

John looked at Sherlock. "There's a fund," he said casually.

"Mycroft --" Sherlock said.

"Mycroft, how is work?" their mother asked. Sherlock looked at her as if she had just done the kindest, most compassionate thing a mother could ever do. 

"Work is fine," Mycroft said. He looked at his watch. "I shouldn't stay too much longer."  
  
"Well, I'm glad you've come," their mother said.

"Stay until after dinner and I'll get those papers you were asking about," their father said.

Sherlock looked over at John apologetically. They finished the meal in silence. Then Sherlock pushed his chair back and said, "John and I'll make tea for everyone." He stood up and motioned for John to follow him.

John got up gratefully, still a bit hungry, following Sherlock out of the dining room.

"I'm so sorry, John," Sherlock said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry about him -- he just likes to stir the pot. He acts like he's my father sometimes." He filled the kettle and turned it on. He got out the teapot, cups, and milk and sugar. "It's over now, he'll be gone soon and we'll go upstairs and it'll be normal again, okay?"

"Okay. I just didn't expect . . . I mean, I didn't have a story ready. A back up," he said. "I didn't know what to say."

"It's all right -- what you said was all right because it was true. He doesn't need any details," Sherlock said, touching John's arm. "It'll be over soon, okay?" He poured the tea into the pot and carried everything in on a tray. Mycroft and his father were gone so his mother was sitting alone.  
  
"Where'd they go?" Sherlock asked, setting down the tray.

"Your brother needs some papers or something. It's nothing to worry about. Did you enjoy the meal, boys?" she asked.

John nodded. "Yes, thank you," Sherlock said.

His father returned a few minutes later.

"Has Mycroft gone?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, he said he had to get back," his father said. They all sat quietly with their tea before his father added, "The dinner was good. Nice to have the whole family here. And Sherlock's friend."

Sherlock stood up. "Well, we've got some studying to do," he said, pulling John's arm. "We'll be upstairs."

"Thank you for dinner," John said as he let Sherlock drag him out of the dining room. Still hungry, he hoped Sherlock wasn't kidding about hidden biscuits or he would be making his way back again. "Maybe I should come up with something, just to have ready for people that don't need to know," he said, immediately going back to their earlier conversation. But what could he come up with? Why would anyone leave their home unless something awful had happened? 

"John, whatever you want to say is fine by me," Sherlock said as they made their way upstairs. "I don't think that many people will ask but whatever you want to say is fine." He pulled him into his room and shut the door. "God, families are such a pain. But that's over now. Do you want me to check your chemistry from yesterday?"

John nodded. "Yes please. I am nervous about it. Let me go get it real quick -- you should find your hidden biscuits," he grinned, moving into his own room. He fished out his homework from his backpack and brought it back to Sherlock's room, handing it over nervously. 

Sherlock leaned over and pulled some biscuits out of the bottom drawer of his nightstand. When John came in, he tossed them over towards him. He looked over John's homework and went over the only two he hadn't got right. Well, he had them right but his work was a little off, so Sherlock tried to explain it.

The rest of the day they spent working on this week's work, getting a bit ahead so that John had extra time to study for the upcoming chemistry final. Later they went downstairs and ate more of the chicken dinner. Sherlock suggested they have an early night. "Do you want to sleep in my room or yours?" he asked as they went back upstairs.

"Oh," John said, wondering why they weren't sleeping together. "It doesn't matter," John said. Well, they had agreed they were both allowed to want space.

"Let's sleep in mine then," Sherlock said. He went to the bathroom and came out in his pajamas. "Maybe we could listen to a radio show? That might make us sleepy. We could kiss as well, but maybe not the other, you know, since they're here." He climbed into bed. 

John smiled, feeling quite relieved. He rushed out, changed into his own pajamas and brushed his teeth before climbing into bed with Sherlock. He quietly ate biscuits as he leaned on the headboard.

Sherlock turned on the radio and then turned off the lights. "Put the biscuits away," he said. "Let's kiss." He curled around John, resting his head against him. 

"That'll be dangerous territory," he warned, setting the biscuits on the night table before scooting closer to him.

"No, just soft kissing . . . to help us fall asleep," Sherlock said. What he really wanted was just cuddling, just being close to John to be reminded that someone loved him, someone would always be there. But he wasn't sure why he wanted that and if it'd be stupid to say. So he didn't say anything else and just pressed a kiss onto John's arm.

John closed his eyes and smiled softly. He kissed Sherlock's head and didn't open his eyes again. "Whatever you like," he murmured sleepily.

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, it was morning. He rolled over and checked his phone: it was five minutes before the alarm was to go off. He turned back and cuddled against John. "It's morning," he whispered. "Let's stay home from college. Let's stay in bed for always."

"Can't . . . exams coming up," John mumbled even though he made no move to actually get up and out of bed.

"Spoil sport," Sherlock said. After a few minutes, he got up and started getting ready. When he was finished, he went downstairs to make some breakfast and lunch for John. Once he'd come down as well, they headed off to college.

The mood at college was slightly different, a little more manic. It seemed like students varied from extremely stressed by the upcoming to exams and impatiently excited about the pending end. Sherlock and John tried to stay calm -- focused without getting too worked up.

Finally, though, Sherlock couldn't take it. Half way through the week, he convinced John to take a little break -- they decided to leave as soon as chemistry was over. It wasn't just about sex; it was a little bit because it was hard to do too much with Sherlock's parents home all the time. But it was also just about missing that feeling: the feeling of just them being together alone, like they would be when they went to uni.

Sherlock held John's hand as they walked home. He unlocked the door, stepped through and picked up the post, flicking through it.

"Hey, you got something," Sherlock said. He turned it over. "It's a package from . . . the Army? What's that all about? Are you just planning on ogling men in uniform? Am I not enough for you anymore?" he asked, laughing a bit.

John was glad Sherlock had suggested the break -- he had been feeling decent about his exams but with everyone freaking out around them the stress was a bit contagious. It was nice being at home in the quiet with only Sherlock. When he saw what Sherlock was holding, he took it and shook his head. "No, that's not it," he said. He wished he had found it first so he could prepare what to say to Sherlock. "It's an information packet," he started. 

"Why have they sent it to you?" Sherlock asked, moving to the kitchen to make them some tea.

"I asked for it," John said. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "I asked for it because they will help me pay for uni. My dad won't since I left." 

Sherlock stopped short and looked at John. "You said there was a fund. Were you . . . lying?" he asked, staring at John.

"There was a fund," John said. "But when I talked to Harry she said he wouldn't -- well, I checked it and he had emptied it. I didn't want to take loans out so I found an alternative," he said. "It's just training, you know?"

"Just let me help you," Sherlock said. "Don't get involved in all that -- just let me help you. I can give it to you but if you don't like that, you can pay me back when you become a doctor. It's sorted, John. Don't make it more complicated than it needs to be." He brought the cups of tea over, sitting down, hoping that was sorted.

"No -- I can't ask you to pay my tuition, Sherlock. And if I could easily pay it back, I would get loans," John said. "I just . . .I know I can do this."  
  
"But . . . the Army, John . . . you might have to go to . . . you'll have to leave me . . ." Sherlock said. All of a sudden his stomach started to hurt terribly. "It's not just training, John. It'll be . . . more."

"Only if there's a war," John said. "And even then I will be a doctor so I won't be in the fighting. They're going to pay me, Sherlock. I have to." He reached out for Sherlock's hand, stroking softly with his thumb. 

"But there is a war, John," Sherlock said. "No, I don't want you to go. No." He pulled his hand back a bit. "Don't do this, John. Let's figure something else out."

"Without loans what do you suggest?" John asked, leaving his hand where it was in case Sherlock wanted to hold it again. 

"I-I don't know," Sherlock said, because he didn't. He, of course, never had to think about something like this -- he knew his parents would pay his fees. "But . . . why wouldn't you talk to me about this? Why would you just decide without even talking to me? Why would you let me think it was all taken care of with this fund and go behind my back and make these decisions?"

"I haven't," John said. "I mean, I've only asked for the information packet. I haven't spoken to anyone or signed up for anything. I was going to talk to you when this arrived." He had expected Sherlock to be upset, but not this much. He pulled his hand back and guiltily twisted the envelope in his hands. 

"I just . . . what else has been going on in your life that you've not anything to me about?" Sherlock asked softly, staring down at his mug.

"Nothing else," John said, looking over at him. "Sherlock, you know everything about me. I just . . . wanted to wait until the packet came because I knew you would have questions and I didn't have the answers. Even I have questions. I just wanted to be prepared." 

"All right, it's fine," Sherlock said. But it didn't feel fine. He thought they were going to be together forever and now John was already making plans to separate. "It's fine." He finished his tea and stood up. "I think I might work out in the shed for a bit." He didn't invite John to join him.

"Wait! You said you wanted to talk about this and now you're going?" John asked. 

"There's nothing else to talk about, is there?" Sherlock said. "I can't think of another solution, you're smart -- if this is what you choose, what does it have to do with me?"  
  
"It has to do with you because you're the most important person in my life," John said. He slid out of his chair and grabbed his folder. "Good luck on your experiment." He left the kitchen without another word, heading up to his own room. He flopped down on the bed and started looking through the packet. There was a lot of information about the different things that were offered -- all the programmes to specialise in. He focused on the medical programme before he dozed off over the folder.

He woke up with a start and saw it was dark out. He went to get some food, ate quickly in the kitchen, and then went to get ready for bed. Despite what was going on between them he still went to Sherlock's room. Sherlock came up a little later and they went to sleep together, like they usually did.

They finished the week out being oddly cordial -- they were mostly normal but John's decision hung heavily between them. There was nothing else to focus on now except the exams and that made both of them think of what would come after.


	24. The Envelopes

By Friday afternoon, John had decided enough was enough. He'd been lying in his room for a half hour since they got back from college. He realised that Sherlock was all he had now, and he wanted to talk to him about what to do -- to get his proper opinion about it all. He got up, grabbed the Army packet and looked for a pen and paper so they could make a list of options. He couldn't find either so he stopped into Sherlock's room and opened his desk drawer. When he did, he noticed a stack of letters. He pulled them out and flipped though them. They were all addressed to Sherlock and they all had the same writing, but none had been opened. He dropped his packet on the bed and went down to the kitchen where Sherlock was sitting at the table. "Hey Sherlock? What are these?" he asked.

Sherlock looked up from the newspaper he was reading. He saw the envelopes in John's hand and time stood still for a moment. Then it seemed to take an additional moment for John's words to be processed by his brain. He stood up awkwardly. "Why do you have those?" he asked, stammering a little.

"I was looking for a pencil in your desk and I found them -- who're they from?" John flipped them with his thumb again. "Looks like they really wanted to get in touch."

Sherlock snatched them away from John. "Why are you going through my stuff? I don't go through yours," he rushed up the stairs and went into his room, shutting the door. He stuffed the letters back into his desk and flopped onto his bed, landing on John's Army packet, which he pulled out from under him and threw at the door. He turned on his side and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sherlock -- hey!" John followed him upstairs and went into the room, shutting the door behind him. He picked up his packet after stepping on it, tossing it onto the desk. "Well, at least you didn't run off to the shed this time, so now we've got to talk about this. Who are they from? Why are you so upset?"

"What's happening to us, John? You are making all these life plans without me and now you're snooping through my stuff? I trusted you and I don't understand why you're doing all this," Sherlock said, not turning over to face him.

"Don't you dare dump this on me! I requested one information packet and had every intention of talking about it with you. But you refused to and now you're the one keeping secrets," John said.  

"It's not a secret," Sherlock said defensively. "I mean, look, it doesn't matter. The whole thing is utterly meaningless -- do I really have to tell you about every meaningless thing in my life?"

"Not a secret? Look how you're acting about me finding them!" John said. He couldn't believe how hypocritical Sherlock was being now. "And now suddenly it's okay not to share everything? I request information for something that could help me with my future and you throw a fit, but you're getting these weird letters and now it's okay not to share things?" 

"Fine, then, fine," Sherlock said sarcastically. "How about I just tell you everything? Should I start at age three -- that's the earliest I can remember -- shall I tell you every single thing that's ever happened to me? Or is it just the letters? You just want to know about the letters? Fine. Open and read them all -- see if I care." Sherlock knew John wouldn't. He still refused to turn and look at John. He knew this _was_ a secret, he knew he was keeping a secret but this felt different and he wanted to convince himself that he shouldn't feel guilty even though he knew he should and did.

John put the letters down on the desk, grabbed his packet and left the room. He was angry, but mostly he was hurt and he didn't trust himself to stay there. They both needed a break before they said something they'd regret. Maybe they could try talking again later. He closed his door, tossed the packet on the pillow and then laid down on his side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Sherlock tried to regulate his breathing. He took out his phone.

_I'm sorry for getting angry. The letters really aren't important. I promise. Just embarrassing. But I shouldn't have got so angry. I'm sorry. SH_

_I don't even care about the letters any more. I care about how you're acting about them. Obviously they mean something. -JW_

_Will you come back into my room please? SH_

Sherlock stood up and pulled the curtain shut before turning out the lamp so the room was dark. He lay back down on the bed and waited.

John thought about saying no, but he knew he didn't want that. He left his phone on the pillow, brought his packet along and went to Sherlock's room. He climbed beside him on the bed, lay the packet on his belly, and waited patiently.

"Don't look at me when I tell you," Sherlock said. "The letters are just from . . . someone I used to know. From my old college. We used to do experiments together and the letters . . . were mostly about that. But I don't write him anymore. We weren't supposed to write each other at all really, but I don't anymore, I swear. Not since I met you."

Something about the way Sherlock said they weren't supposed to write to each other made him remember Mycroft's words about finding someone his own age. "Sherlock . . . I'm not asking to embarrass you or judge you. I just wondered . . ." He took a deep breath. ". . .if something's wrong, we should be open with each other."

"It's just . . . it's just how my family is. No one talks about things -- which I know sounds like they're secrets but I don't want us to have secrets. I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "I'll throw the letters away. We never did anything, I swear."

"Is that why you left?" John kept his eyes fixed up to the ceiling as he asked, hoping nothing awful had happened to Sherlock.

"Well, not exactly . . . I mean . . . yes," Sherlock said. "I thought we were friends, I guess, because after we had that argument in class, we would meet up and he . . . he thought I was smart. He was the only one who could. . . I mean, we could have good conversations about things because he was smart too. But then he could have got in trouble so it was easier for me to leave. But we still wrote letters. I don't . . ."

"Are you safe and happy?" John asked softly.

"What do you mean -- safe?" Sherlock asked.

"I mean . . . well, was he just taking an interest or was it inappropriate?" He hated asking, but if they'd made him leave the school, perhaps something might have happened. If the teacher had merely been a mentor and things got misunderstood, that was something else. John had no way of knowing. Only Sherlock's word would matter. 

"I'm not a good judge of what's appropriate, John, but the school obviously didn't think it was," Sherlock said. "It's just . . . I guess he was the closest thing I had to a friend even though I knew it wasn't normal. I didn't love him or anything, I didn't want to . . . I wasn't lying when we first met about those things not being a part of my life. But I think he felt . . . he said he loved me. He said when I finished college, we could be together and even though I kind of knew what he meant, I pretended I didn't because I just wanted to have someone who . . . liked me." He sat up and looked at John. "Are you angry with me?"

John shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you, Sherlock." The idea made him kind of sad -- all he could see was Sherlock's vulnerability and this teacher should have known better. "I see they're unopened. Have you not talked to him at all?"

"No. We never talked or texted -- you can check my phone if you don't believe me. We just used to write. But I stopped when . . . when I met you," Sherlock said softly, hoping John would believe him. "Because then I knew what a real friend was like." He leaned onto John's shoulder. "I wasn't keeping a secret, John. It was done, it was past to me and I figured sooner or later he'd figure it out. It wasn't a secret -- it's just . . . I'm worried now because I think you'll make decisions without me and I'll be left behind . . ."

John turned and kissed his head. "I believe you, Sherlock. Please don't be sad. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was thinking about the Army. I don't want to leave you behind." John leaned back against him and dropped the folder on the ground. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock pushed his face against John, realising he felt a bit like crying and then that he was. "I don't have any other ideas if you won't let me pay for you . . . I don't know how to make it so you don't have to do this and then go away."

John licked his lips lightly and buried into his hair. "I hate it, Sherlock, I do, but I need to sort this on my own. I'm sorry."

"I just don't want to be without you," Sherlock said.

"I don't want to be without you either -- it's the hardest thing about all of this."

"I'm sorry for being so stupid about it," Sherlock said, wiping his eyes and trying to be normal. "I know it's a long time from now . . . we shouldn't worry about it now."

John dipped down and kissed his mouth softly, wiping his tears away. "I know, love. It's going to be okay though. We'll be okay."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Okay, I'm sorry . . ." He squeezed John close, pulling them down on the bed.

John nodded. "It's okay now," he smiled softly. He wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist, scooting closer to him.

Sherlock leaned over and kissed John. He let himself linger in the kiss, grateful it still seemed as wonderful as it now seemed natural. He let a hand stroke John's back softly, still lost in the kiss.

John kissed him back gratefully, glad that things were mostly sorted between them. It was easy to have the hope that they would be fine, but things like this made it more real. They could talk together and get upset but they were fine. Always fine.

They rested together until it get dark and then Sherlock made a move to get up. "Let's get something to eat," he said, standing and stretching. He reached for his phone and saw a message. "My parents aren't coming home tonight," he read. "Let's eat and then take a bath and go to bed early." He made a bit of a cheeky smile. "Would that be okay?"

"Yeah," John smiled, sitting up as well. "Will I finally get to be naughty?" He grinned.

"Yes, I'd be offended if you weren't," Sherlock said. He gave him one more long hug and then pulled his arm towards the door. They went down to the kitchen, and Sherlock got some food for them to eat. They took it outside and ate at the table in the back garden. When they were finished, they took the plates in, washed up and then returned to have a cup of tea. Sherlock smoked one cigarette and once he'd finished, he looked over at John and said, "Come on. I want you to ge in the bath with me now."

John leaned over and kissed him hard, holding his cheek with one hand before pulling away and nodding. "I would love nothing more -- I have been looking for a chance to suck you off and I really, really want to, Sherlock." He kissed him again, walking carefully towards the bathroom. 

"John Watson!" Sherlock said. "Sometimes I can't believe the things you say." He was, however, very much looking forward to it. He went in to turn on the bath and then to his bedroom to get his pajamas. They met in the bathroom and Sherlock squeezed his arms around John, pulling him into a long kiss. "Let's get in," he said as he stepped back to turn off the water.

John stepped into the bath but remained standing for a moment. "Where do you want to sit?" he asked, rubbing Sherlock's arms as he climbed in. 

"Well, are you really going to, you know, in here or do you want to do that afterwards? If so I guess I have to face you, right? I can sit with my back to the tap, I don't mind," Sherlock said, getting in but standing as well.

"It would be rather sexy in the tub here, but we can wait until we go to bed for both of our comfort. We can cuddle in here for a bit -- I can get you hard," he smiled.

"John, I'm kind of getting hard from standing here naked talking to you about it," Sherlock said, smiling. He shifted and sat down. "Just sit down so we don't get cold."

John sat on his knees in front of Sherlock, smiling as he leaned in to kiss him. He touched him under the water, first his belly and then his hardening cock. "I've been thinking about this for days," he smiled.

"I know it's hard when my parents are around," Sherlock said. "I mean it's difficult to do stuff -- you make it hard almost all the time." He smiled and then closed his eyes, just enjoying John's touch.

John chuckled softly as he wrapped his fingers around Sherlock, stroking slowly. "Don't worry --I'm almost always hard thinking about you, too."

Sherlock leaned to kiss John again. "That feels good," he whispered. "You always do it right."

"I know what you like," John murmured. "I know what I like." He kissed Sherlock again, a bit harder this time.

"I like you," Sherlock said. "I love you actually. Don't forget that, okay?"  
  
"I love you too," John said quietly. "I don't want you to forget either, okay?"

"I'll try not to," Sherlock said. "Of course, if you just promise to do this every night for the rest of our lives . . . that'd help remind me." He smiled cheekily, reaching his hand down to hold John's cock.

John grinned and shook his head. "I'll think about it," he teased.

Sherlock stroked John a few times and then said, "Let's stop and actually wash up and then go into the bedroom." He reached over for the soap and rubbed it over John's shoulders.

"You always tease me," John smiled. He helped as best as he could, still touching Sherlock's cock whenever he could.

"I'm not teasing you," Sherlock said, washing John and then himself. "It's just that I want to get you into the bedroom and do something new." 

"New?" John smiled wider. "Like what?" He washed Sherlock quickly, eager to get started.

"Let's do our mouth at the same time," Sherlock suggested. "If one of us turns upside down in the bed, it might work."

"Yes, okay," John nodded. He quickly finished up, already picturing it and humming softly.

Sherlock stood up and grabbed a towel to wrap around himself. He handed one to John, and they dried off. Then Sherlock grabbed John's hand and pulled him quickly into his room. "Let's try," he said and kind of pushed John down on the bed. He sat down and arranged John's body -- turning him on his side and estimating -- before lying down on the bed himself, facing John but upside down. He lifted John's cock with one hand and started licking the tip of it. 

John started to melt when he felt Sherlock suck his cock, so he reciprocated by swallowing Sherlock's with a small hum.

Sherlock took more of John into his mouth but pulled back just a little when he felt John's mouth on him. He loved doing this to John and loved John doing it to him, but it was a lot of feelings all at once. "Feels good," he mumbled. He took a little breath and started sucking John again, using one of his hands to hold his balls as well. 

John moaned softly. "I know," he agreed, dipping down to suck his balls and kissing his thighs before taking him into his mouth again.

Sherlock wished they could stay like this forever. Even though he knew it was stupid, he realised that what he really wished is that they would always be this close, that they would always want to do things like this to each other. Sherlock had never considered touching someone else or being touched in such an intimate way; he'd never wanted it. And now he knew how good it felt but more importantly how much it meant. He pushed his hips against John's mouth just a bit as he took John further into his throat.

John moaned and opened his mouth more to take Sherlock deeper, hollowing his cheeks as heat flooded through his own body. He rested his hand on Sherlock's hip, slowly rocking it.

"Make it wet and use your finger," Sherlock moaned softly as he wet his own and let it hover over John's hole. He licked John's cock up and down and sucked his tip again.

John stuck his finger into his mouth at the same time as Sherlock's cock, sucking on both to wet his finger. Then he pulled it out and wet Sherlock's hole, gently pushing his finger through, pushing into him. He moaned softly, gripping his thigh.

"Yes, John, it feels good," Sherlock moaned. "More . . ."

John moved his finger into Sherlock, speeding up to set a steady rhythm. Then he added a second one, still moving his mouth over Sherlock's cock to match.

John's fingers felt so good that Sherlock could barely stand it. He moved his mouth to just breathe against John's leg, using his hand instead to stroke his cock. But soon enough he couldn't take it. "John," he moaned, pulling his hips away just a bit. "We have to . . . I need you . . ."  
  
John pulled away from his cock and moved to sit up a bit. "Okay -- yes," he murmured, needing Sherlock just as badly. "How . . . what do you need?"

Sherlock turned on the bed and pushed John flat. "I need you to do it to me," he huffed. He reached into the drawer and grabbed the lube and a condom. He opened the condom, rolling it onto John. Then he straddled John's waist and poured some lube into his hand. He reached down and stroked John's cock and then rubbed between his own legs. "Put your hands over your head," he said. He leaned down and kissed him. "Let me do it all, okay?"

John watched his every move as he quickly got everything ready; the sight made the heat in his body flare up. He lifted his arms and gripped the headboard, the position doing nothing to help his arousal. "Sherlock, I need to feel you . . . please," John moaned, lifting his hips to try to meet him.

Sherlock held John's cock and lined himself up before slowly lowering down and pushing him inside. "Slow," he said aloud. "Fuck," he moaned. Once he was all the way inside, he looked down at John and said, "You okay? I want to move some now." 

"Yes -- God yes, please," John said, already trying to use the headboard as a way to steady himself so he could move with Sherlock. "You feel so good," he moaned. He would never get used to the tight heat around him, the feel of Sherlock around him. There would never be anyone else he'd do this with. He loved this. "I love you."

Sherlock began slowly rocking his hips, lifting just a bit. He leaned down and kissed John while still rocking a rhythm. "God, John," he panted. "It feels good."

"Can I -- I want to hold you," John asked, gazing up at him and squeezing the bed tightly.

"Not yet," Sherlock said. "I want to torture you a bit." He lifted his hips more now so he could feel John's cock moving inside him. "God," he said. "You feel so good. I only ever want this feeling with you -- no one else."

"I only want it with you too," John mumbled, releasing his fingers and then grabbing the bed again to feel as if he'd done something. It was the best form of torture.

Sherlock moved faster and a bit harder. He grabbed John's hands on the bed, trying to almost bounce his knees to help John move as well. "Please," he said, though he wasn't quite sure what he was begging for. He lifted one of his hands to his cock and started stroking. He closed his eyes tight and just concentrated on all the feelings. Suddenly he opened his eyes and stopped. "I want us to turn over," he said, moving slowly off John. "I want you to get on top of me."

John whined softly at the sudden loss of feeling, scrambling to get up with Sherlock. "I -- what? How?" he asked in confusion, wondering why there was a sudden stop.

"No, John," Sherlock almost shouted. "Stop trying to think -- just lie down on top of me." He lay back flat on the bed and pulled on John's arms. "Put it inside again . . . please."

John flushed. "Sorry," he said, crawling over to him and settling between his legs. "Don't be mad," he said quietly, pushing into Sherlock again and holding his hips. He thrust steadily, moaning softly at the feel of him again.

"Do it hard, John," Sherlock moaned quietly, wrapping his arms tight around John's back. "Do it as hard as you can -- I want to feel . . . like I belong to you."

John nodded, pushing into Sherlock as hard as he could, panting heavily over him. He found Sherlock's mouth and kissed him hard, a bit sloppy with all of the moving around.

Sherlock kissed John back and then buried his head in John's shoulder. "I love you so much," he said. "I don't . . . I didn't know I could love anyone so much, but I do, John." He squeezed him tight.

"Me too, Sherlock. I -- God . . ." John was close, he could feel his muscles tightening but he waited -- he wanted to feel Sherlock first, to feel him squeezing around him as he came. He reached down and stroked him quickly.

Sherlock moved his hand down over John's stroking himself as well. "Kiss me when I come," he moaned, leaning up to kiss him and coming almost immediately. He called out John's name as his whole body tightened, and he felt like he was frozen in time for a moment.

John groaned against his mouth and Sherlock's body squeezed his own, pulling and holding him inside. John came with him, moaning and murmuring his name and praises as the waves coursed through him.

Sherlock held onto John as tightly as he could -- he felt like he was holding him with his whole body. "God, John," he whispered. "Always . . . always . . ."

John nodded, curling against him for the moment. He knew he should move, but he didn't want to yet. He wanted to stay here -- to stay this close -- forever.

Sherlock felt like John's heart was beating as loudly as his own. He listened to both of them, listened to their breathing. "I love you still," he whispered, smiling against John's skin.

"I would hope so," John smiled. He shifted a bit and took the condom off, tossing it in the bin before curling close to Sherlock again. "I still love you too."

"I like when you're in my bed," Sherlock said, his breath finally calming. "Do you think when we live together we'll have a bed that's ours instead of mine?"

"Yes," John said easily. "Because we'll have our place, and our room, and our bed. It'll be our home," he smiled. He was drawing on Sherlock's side with his finger, still unable to get enough of touching him despite being pressed against him.

Sherlock snuggled against John. "I'm sleepy now. Should we do sex again when we wake up? Before we study -- I know we have to study -- but let's do it the morning as well?" He laughed a little at himself. "I think I'm talking stupid again . . . having sex with you seems to do that to me."

"We can do it again whenever you want," John chuckled. He closed his eyes and sighed softly. He was tired as well.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Maybe we'll do it in my dreams. I'll try to remember it and then we can do it the same way in the morning." He slowly let his eyes close. "Good night, John."

"Good night, Sherlock. I love you," he murmured. He relaxed against him, not falling asleep right away but feeling so comfortable and warm.

Sherlock didn't dream, but he did wake up with an erection. He turned over and spooned John, pushing his hips lightly against John's back. "Wake up, John Watson, your boyfriend is horny," he whispered in a silly voice.

John groaned softly. "You really did see in it your dreams," he murmured. "Do you remember it? Guide me," he smiled. He turned to face Sherlock, kissing his cheek instead of his mouth. He worried about his breath this early.

"Just hands," Sherlock said. He reached down and palmed John. "Did you sleep well? " he asked, slowly moving his hand over John's soft cock.

John nodded, reaching down to touch Sherlock lightly. "I don't remember my dream," he said softly.

"I do have one idea, but not from my dream," Sherlock said quietly. "Let's do dirty talk. Except only about chemistry so that you have a good association for the exam this week. Chemistry can be very sexy, you know." He stroked John steadily now as he kissed the top of John's shoulders. "If you pass your exam, I'll show you just how sexy it can be."

"How do we dirty talk with chemistry?" John asked, his breathing a bit harder now. "If -- if I pass we can do something dirty, like celebrate at . . .at school." He stroked Sherlock slowly but gripped tightly, swiping over the tip.

"After the exam, I'll take you into the lab where we had our first tutoring session. I'll push you against the door and get down on my knees and suck you," Sherlock said, stroking faster.

"Yes," John agreed, his own hand moving faster now as he thought about that. "And . . . and maybe get me up on the table . . . like in the shed."

"But only if you pass, John," Sherlock said. "Promise you will." He could feel himself getting close -- his breath changed and his pulse sped up.

"I will. I -- oh God -- I promise," John moaned. He could feel Sherlock getting close and it only propelled him forward towards his own orgasm. He felt himself leaking already. "I promise," he breathed. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "I'm picturing it now." He closed his eyes and did imagine it. His hand tightened and suddenly he was coming against both their bellies. "God, John, yes," he moaned.

"Oh Sherlock," John moaned, following soon after him. Everything mixed together between then and it only made John come harder to think about it.

Sherlock squeezed John close. "Good morning," he said, laughing a little. "Perhaps we should clean up and start studying now."

John chuckled and tried to catch his breath. "Yeah, I suppose so," he said. He pecked Sherlock's lips and sat up, stretching and yawning.

The rest of the weekend was spent studying. They worked some of the time on their own and some of the time together, mostly with Sherlock quizzing John. The Sunday family dinner was less stressful without Mycroft's presence, though Sherlock had to remind his parents about their exams since they seemed to have forgotten all about them. When they got into bed Sunday night, Sherlock curled himself against John and said, "The chemistry exam's not until Friday -- don't get so focused on it that you forget about the others. You can pass all of them, John. I know you can." He stroked John's face and smiled.

John nodded and thanked him for his encouragements. When he finally fell asleep, he had a strange dream -- Sherlock was crying in the chemistry lab and John couldn't get inside. When he finally broke through, Sherlock was covered in papers, all of which had failing grades in big red letters and all of which were John's. He woke up with a start, torn between anxiety and annoyance at the clichéd dream. He looked over at Sherlock sleeping beside him. He could do this -- everything would be fine. He closed his eyes again, but he had a hard time falling asleep again so he just lay still and went over material in his head. It was going to be a long week.


	25. The Chemistry Exam

Each day John and Sherlock had different exams at different times, but they both went into college together so they could be there for each other. Fortunately, both felt pretty confident about their scores. They were free on Wednesday, but they went to town anyway to get some lunch at the cafe.

"So far so good, I think." John smiled over at Sherlock while he ate, thinking back to the exams he'd already taken. He knew he'd be good in those classes and he really only had one worry, but he didn't want to keep stressing about it.

"Good," Sherlock said. "We're the smartest people in that college -- and I'm including the teachers -- so I've no doubt we've both done well." He took a sip of tea. "I was thinking . . . maybe we should get part time jobs this summer. It'll be something to do and we can save the money for our place, you know, to buy things we need. What do you think?"

"Yeah, I like that idea," John said. "I've been thinking about it since I left my dad's -- I think it'll be good."

"Do you want me to see if I can get Mycroft to get us jobs as part time spies? It might be fun," Sherlock said, smiling. "Or we could just see what's available in town. Maybe the library? Then I wouldn't have to talk to anyone. I could just reshelve the books and avoid other human beings."

"I don't want to be a spy," John smiled. "But the library or a doctor's office or even a shop -- anything to save up a little," he said.

"We don't have to work at the same place, I suppose," Sherlock said. "I don't want you to get sick of me. We could work nearby each other and meet for lunch and give each other handjobs in the alley on breaks." He smiled. "My family has a cottage -- maybe we could go there next week for a little celebration after exams. There are only a few rooms in it -- we could set ourselves the challenge of doing it in every one of them." He wiggled a bit in his seat. "I'd better stop talking about it or I'll get a hard-on right now."

"I assumed we wouldn't be working together - -I think it'll be hard for both of us to get hired in the same place. But those other things . . . you have wonderful ideas." John shifted in his seat a bit, trying to follow Sherlock's advice about not thinking about it.

"I thought you wanted to do everything together?" Sherlock teased. "I was planning on becoming a doctor as well so that we could share every single class and then go into practice together and at some point we could discover a way to graft our bodies together so we are literally never separated. God, John, where's your sense of romance? Exams have turned you into a terrible boyfriend."

"If we were fused together then we wouldn't be able to have sex," John reminded him.

"Well, depending on where we were fused. Forget it -- I've gone off the idea now," Sherlock said. "Let's go home and fuse ourselves temporarily." He stretched his legs under the table to touch John's.

John grinned. "You're such a romantic -- I'm overwhelmed with desire," he teased.

"You've done all this to me. It wasn't that long ago things like that would never cross my mind, you know, before I met you," Sherlock said. "Actually, can we just go home and take a nap? Maybe it's the food or the fact that I wish we were just totally done with the exams, but I've gone a little sleepy."

"Is the thought of shagging with me already boring you?" John chuckled, taking his hand as they walked out.

"No, I just fancy a nap and a bit of cuddling until I fall asleep. I think it was all that romantic talk of mutilating surgery that got to me," Sherlock said.

"Oh right," John chuckled again. At Sherlock's he stripped down to a t-shirt and pants so he could be more comfortable. "Come on. I'll be good -- I promise."

Sherlock undressed as well and slid into the bed next to John. He cuddled around him. "We're almost home free, John," he said. "Two more days and then we're done. If it all goes well, we should celebrate." He let his eyes close as he spoke.

"I agree. I can't believe it's the end of the year already," he murmured. He started rubbing Sherlock's arm slowly, the action relaxing him as well.

"Me neither -- though, at the beginning of the year, I'd never have imagined this is how it'd end," Sherlock said. "I'm glad though." He leaned over and gave John a quick kiss and then settled down for his nap.

That night John made his spaghetti and sauce for dinner again, and then he had Sherlock review chemistry with him. The following morning he was a nervous wreck, twisting his hands as they walked to college.

"Stop thinking about chemistry, John," Sherlock said, reaching over and grabbing his hands. "You've only got geography today and that's easy for you. My exam starts later than yours so once you're done, wait for me and I'd like to take you out to dinner tonight, okay? Nothing fancy but just to get your mind off chemistry for a bit. Then we can study more and have an early night. For real, I mean. Unless you want some kissing, we can do that, too."  
  
"Dinner sounds really nice. And kissing as well." He squeezed Sherlock's hands before heading off to his own exam. Sherlock was right, of course, it was easy. When he finished he went to the spot where they always had lunch and waited for Sherlock to come out.

Sherlock finished his exam quite quickly and went out to find John. They headed back home. His parents had texted to say they'd be home late, so that meant they could have their date in peace. "Where should we go eat? Some place we've already been or somewhere new?"

"Somewhere new . . . maybe a little fancy?" John asked shyly. "Since we're celebrating."

"Should we wait to celebrate tomorrow night? Not that I don't have faith in you . . . no, you're right, let's celebrate tonight. Then we can celebrate again tomorrow." Once they got home, he made them some tea as he flipped through the newspaper. He set out biscuits for John. After he'd finished his tea, he said, "I think I'll go have a shower. I'm going to wear my special date clothes." He smiled cheekily at John as he stood up and stretched.

"It's not your sheet, is it?" John grinned. "I want to shower as well and I will wear my special date clothes too."

"No Mister Pervert, it's what I wore on our first proper date," Sherlock said. "I swear, I am going to just give up on trying to be romantic if all my attempts are going to fall on deaf ears." He pinched John's arms as he walked by and headed up to get ready.

After getting out his clothes, Sherlock headed to the bathroom. He glanced over at John's room, setting his clothes on the sink and then sneaking back. He opened the door and looked in. He could remember when it was Mycroft's room. He mostly remembered Mycroft being mean -- he once handcuffed Sherlock to his desk and another time he convinced Sherlock to hide under the bed all day for some ridiculous reason that Sherlock had believed was true. But now it wasn't Mycroft's room: it was John's. And it was where Sherlock and John had slept and kissed and even where they first had sex. For a second, Sherlock wanted to call John upstairs and lie down on that bed and have sex again. But he knew he shouldn't; it couldn't be like that all the time. He went back into the bathroom and got into the shower.

John stuck his tongue out and watched him go up, following a bit later and lying on his bed to wait his turn. He almost went to join Sherlock, but it didn't seem like the right time now. They were both stressed with exams -- John more than Sherlock -- and tonight was supposed to be sweet and romantic. He made a mental note not to make any more rude jokes tonight when Sherlock was trying to be sweet.

Sherlock came out all dressed. He noticed John's bedroom door open and saw him lying on the bed. Sherlock went in and lay down next to him. "Don't I smell nice? Why do I have such a sloppy boyfriend?" he leaned over as if to smell John and crinkled his nose. Then he curled around John a bit and said, "Do you think everything will be different tomorrow? Do you think it won't be as . . . good, us being together, I mean, now that college will be over?" His voice was quiet as he spoke.

John shook his head. "I think it'll be better. No more stress or studying or waking up early." He sighed and rest his hand on Sherlock's hip. "We can enjoy each other properly -- find new things to do, things we like. It'll be better."

"I hope so, John," Sherlock said. "I want us to be together -- whatever we do." He squeezed him a little. "Now go get dressed so I take me on a date."

"I have to wash up because my boyfriend thinks I'm a regular sty," John grinned. He kissed Sherlock's lips, staying a bit longer than he meant to, before getting up and off of the bed. "Now go away so when I come out, I can surprise you with how handsome I'll be."

Sherlock got up and went into his room to wait. He opened his laptop and checked his blogs. There was a new comment on the experiment notes he had posted last week, but nothing new from him. Sherlock felt relieved of that burden. He did a few crosswords online and then closed his laptop and lay down on his bed to wait for John.

John came out in his towel and rifled through his clothes. He put on dark jeans, a gray long sleeve shirt and a burgundy jumper. He fussed his hair a bit and went to find Sherlock. "Well?" he asked, spreading his arms a bit.

"Very handsome," Sherlock said, standing up. He leaned in to kiss him and then made some sniffing noises around his head. "Smells better," he added, laughing as they made their way downstairs.

"Let's walk a couple roads over -- there's a nice place there," Sherlock said, grabbing John's hand. "Remember how we drove on our date? I wonder if I should learn to drive. Are you glad you know how?"

"I suppose but it's easier getting around without a car in the traffic -- especially in the city. I won't be driving at uni," he said.

"Well, I guess if I have you, in an emergency, I'll have someone who can drive me if I ever need it," Sherlock said. The air was warm as they walked, but not too hot. It was a lovely evening. He wondered how they appeared to people passing in their cars. Did strangers know that he and John loved each other? Even if they guessed it, they'd have no idea how much their friendship meant. How much it had changed their lives. How much it had saved them both.

When they got to the restaurant, Sherlock held the door open for John and they went inside to wait to be seated.

John looked around the restaurant and smiled. "This place looks really nice -- have you been here before?" he asked.

"No," Sherlock said. "I don't think so." He looked around. "Maybe once with my parents. But you know how it is with them -- I mainly just try to pretend I'm not there so I don't really remember anything about it." He looked over the menu. "Tomorrow maybe we could get some champagne to celebrate but not tonight. Or do you not like any kind of drinking because of him?"

"I think some champagne will be okay. It's not like we're going to get wasted and even if we did, it would never be like him or Harry," John said.

When their water came, Sherlock lifted his glass to clink with John's. "To tomorrow," he said. "You'll be on your way to being a doctor and we'll be free to do whatever we want." He smiled genuinely. It was like he had temporarily deleted the whole Army thing, but for now, that was all right.

John smiled back at him, feeling flushed with warmth. "To forever," he said, taking a sip of his own drink. He couldn't believe how this year had turned out and despite how badly it got at some points, he wouldn't change a single thing since it brought him to Sherlock.

"That's a bit heavy, John," Sherlock said, smiling. "You're not planning on asking me to marry you, are you? We're too young for that." He lightly kicked him under the table. "However, if we go away to the cottage, I'm happy to have a honeymoon if it means we can do sex all the time." He raised his eyebrows up and down.

"Maybe I am going to ask," John grinned. "But not just yet. And yes, I can get on board with a sex holiday." He winked and took a quick drink again, flushing lightly.

"The cottage will be good practice for living together since it'll just be us," Sherlock said. "It's kind of out in the middle of nowhere so we survive being there without going off each other, I reckon we're set for life."

John smiled. "I am sure we are going to be fine -- it sounds nice, getting away like that."

"It's been forever since I went away and it was always with them and usually with him -- can you imagine my brother having fun? Not much fun was had on any Holmes holiday, I can tell you," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry -- I shouldn't complain, I guess. I should appreciate all they've done for me. And letting you stay, not every parent would, I guess."

"They have been very good to me considering," John said. "I won't be foolish enough to give them a gift or anything, but I'll thank them and they can do what they will with that."

"You're good, John," Sherlock said, reaching over and touching his hand. "You're a nicer person than I am. Maybe I'll become nicer around you."

"If I'm picking up chemistry, I have to be giving you something back," John smiled.

"Do you feel smarter since meeting me?" Sherlock said. "Be honest. Don't try to flatter me with lies."

"I feel more confident, does that count?" John smiled.

"I think it should," Sherlock said. He leaned over a little and said, "We're both much smarter about . . . you know. Before I didn't know anything at all, and you'd never done . . . a lot of it. Now we're experts." He smiled cheekily.

John leaned in with him and grinned. "We are experts now. I like that we learned together."

"I liked it too," Sherlock said, his face went a little warm. "I hope we can keep doing new stuff."

"I'm sure there's a bunch of new things to try. Just be honest with me, okay? Let's not end up doing things we hate because we want to be exciting," he smiled. 

"Agreed, but you've worried me now," Sherlock said. "I think you know more things than me -- I'm not sure what you're referring to as an option one of us might hate."

"No! No, I just mean when we find new things it might not be something we want to try and that's okay," John said. 

"All right," Sherlock said. The server came and set down their plates. "I fancy you, you know?" Sherlock said, after she left.

John smiled softly, warming at the words. "I fancy you, too." They had said they loved each other before but somehow this felt more intimate. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "If you ever change your mind, just tell me so I know. I don't want to feel stupid because I don't see you've gone off me." 

"I am sure the day you miss something is the I'll find you you've lost your eyes in some tragic accident," John said, smiling. "But I can't see that happening."

"I do miss some things," Sherlock said. "Just help me if I get something wrong, okay?"

John nodded. "Me too, okay? Just because I have a bit more experience than you doesn't mean I'm perfect. We work together -- honest, okay?"

"Agreed," Sherlock answered. "Your food taste good?"

"Oh yeah," John nodded. "I love it. This should be our new place -- our new celebratory place," he smiled. 

"All right," Sherlock said. It was kind of silly but he liked the idea of their having their own place like this. He imagined them coming back again and again -- maybe even when they were old. Which he knew was definitely a silly thought, but he went right ahead and thought it anyway.

John smiled wider at him and went back to eating, humming happily. When they finished John suggested they walk home again, needing the few minutes to digest before they lay down. "I don't want to study tonight," he said, knowing that was a risky move. "I feel like I have read everything I can read for tomorrow and I just want to relax and let it all sink in," he explained. 

"Should we get into bed and watch a film?" Sherlock suggested. His parents still weren't home, but they could be at any minute and he'd rather be alone with John. He grabbed some biscuits and water and headed upstairs.

"Yeah, that sounds very relaxing," John said. "In your room? I want to go to your room."

"My room's fine," Sherlock said. "It feels like it's our room really." He smiled and started to put his pajamas on. "I like that, though." He set out some clothes for tomorrow and started getting the laptop sorted. Then he heard a noise downstairs. "My parents are home. I'm glad we came straight up."

"Me too," John said. He climbed into bed and patted for Sherlock to join him. 

Sherlock slid into bed next to John. "Tomorrow's a big day. I wonder if things will feel different," he said.

"Shh. We're not thinking about that tonight," John said.

"Okay, okay," Sherlock said. He slid down and dramatically flopped over. "Good night then." He made a dramatic snoring sound.

"Hey! We can talk! Just not about S-C-H-O-L. I mean O-O-L," John corrected. "See? It's making me stressed and stupid," he said dramatically. 

Sherlock laughed and turned over. "Shh, then," he said quietly. He rubbed his hands over John's cheeks. "If you're going to talk stupid, you should just be quiet. I'll do the talking. Close your eyes. I'll tell you a story."

Sherlock kept stroking John's cheeks, waiting for him to close his eyes. "Once there was a little boy called John who needed help studying chemistry. He asked another boy to help him. And he did and then they both kind of loved each other. Like the story so far?" he asked.

"Hmm . . . not so fond of the 'kind of'," he smiled, peeking an eye open and sticking his tongue out. "Or the chemistry talk. Tell me something sweet."

"Shhh, you're still not making sense. I'm trying to tell the true story and that includes the chemistry stuff," Sherlock said. "Close your eyes again. So these two are now in love and they're doing kissing and other stuff. Then they live together and everything is good. End of the story." He gave John a quick kiss. "There, did you like that story or not?"

"I liked the story," John nodded, opening his eyes again. "As we're skipping the you-know-what tonight, can we do some of that other stuff from the story? The kissing and such?" he grinned.  

Sherlock thought for a moment. "And when you say 'you-know-what' I'm not sure what you mean. Unless you're talking about the blowjobs, fingering and fucking? Is that the kind of stuff you mean?" he said, laughing at himself.

"I meant chemistry, you pervert! We're skipping chemistry and I would like something more fun to take its place!" John laughed with him, shoving his arm and scooting away from him a bit. 

"Oh, I thought you were asking for the uncensored version of the bedtime story," Sherlock said. "Aren't we cuddling tonight or do you just want me for sex?"

"Not just for sex. I just want to kiss and cuddle and relax with you," he smiled. He scooted back, much too close until he was practically rolling on top of Sherlock. He was in a silly mood.  

Sherlock slid his arms around John and squeezed him. "Well, kiss me then, will you?" he closed his eyes and puckered his lips in an exaggerated way.

John grinned and brought his hand up, pressing his thumb and forefinger to Sherlock's mouth like lips. He made a silly kissing sound and laughed. 

Sherlock stuck out his tongue. "Properly please," he said sweetly.

John smiled and pressed his lips to Sherlock's, kissing him properly.

Sherlock hummed into the kiss. "Mmmm, that's nicer. I like kissing you, you know," he said, opening his eyes and smiling at him. 

"I like kissing you too. Why are we stopping?" John smiled and kissed him again, touching his cheek now. 

"Because I like looking at you as well," Sherlock said, returning the kiss.

"You can do that any time," John murmured, kissing him harder. 

"No, I can't," Sherlock said. "I like seeing you, John. Yes, I like kissing you, but seeing you here, next to me . . . I love that."

John smiled and scooted back just a bit so Sherlock could see him closely. "Here you go," he said quietly. 

Sherlock looked over at him and smiled. "All right, then, thank you," he said. "That's good enough. More kissing, please."

John chuckled and shook his head, kissing Sherlock a bit hard again as he moved even closer. 

Sherlock wrapped his arm around John again and let him kiss him. "You're a good kisser," Sherlock said. "I know I have no one else to compare it to, but I can't believe that anyone could kiss better than you can." 

John chuckled softly as he pecked his lips. "You're a good kisser, too. I like kissing you a lot."

"Just cuddle me now. Don't get yourself worked up into some kind of kissing frenzy," Sherlock said. He curled against John. "Let's dream nice dreams."

"I'll try," John murmured, tucking his head under Sherlock's chin and resting against his chest. "I'm going to lay here, okay?" he murmured, listening to his heart beat.   

Sherlock stroked John's back. "Good night, John Watson," he whispered.

"Good night, Sherlock," John murmured back. He wasn't sleepy, exactly, but this comfort was nice and it helped his relax. He started counting Sherlock's heartbeats, trying to match his breathing with Sherlock's.

Sherlock listened to John breath, hoping to stay awake until John slept but he drifted off before. He didn't dream.

Eventually he fell asleep but he had bad dreams again -- failing exams, disappointing Sherlock. In the end he saw himself being sent back to his father for doing so badly and he woke with a start. He moved carefully so he wouldn't wake Sherlock. There was still an hour and a half before the alarm so he slipped out to his room to get his chemistry things. He didn't want to sleep again.

When Sherlock opened his eyes, John wasn't in the bed. He glanced at the clock, reaching over quickly for his phone just moments before the alarm was going to go off. He went out to find John.

"Have you been up long?" he asked in a sleepy voice. He leaned over John at his desk and gave him a cuddle. "Please tell me you slept some. Exam anxiety dreams or something else?"

"Exam anxiety," John said. "But the other thing bled in a little bit."

"You should've woken me," Sherlock said, turning to lean on the desk in front of John. "You are the smartest person I know because you understand things I know I'll probably never understand," he said softly. "This is just one exam on a subject you've studied very well. And then we're free, John. Whatever happens, we'll be free afterwards. That's all that matters."

"What if I don't pass?" John asked quietly. "I studied so hard and I am sitting here, and it still looks a bit foreign to me and I'm scared."

"Look at me for a minute," Sherlock said. "Look straight at my eyes. I'm sending you a message without saying any words. Can you tell me what the message is?"

John looked up and stared into Sherlock's eyes, flushing lightly and feeling so incredibly stupid. "I'm going to be fine?" he asked softly.

"See? I didn't say it, but you heard me. You already knew it but I just reminded you. In the exam, if you get flustered on a question, look at me and I'll remind you of the answer that's already in that head of yours, okay?"

John bit his lip, fighting a small smile. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Not at all," Sherlock said. "There are no rules about looking at people. That's all we have to do, John -- look at each other and we'll know." He gave him a quick kiss. "I'm going to make a cup of tea. I want to get to college an hour before the exam, okay? That way we won't have to rush to leave but we won't have to worry about being late."

"Okay. I'll meet you down there in a bit. I am going to have a quick shower before I get dressed." He stood up and kissed Sherlock's mouth lightly before moving to find some fresh clothes. 

Sherlock went down to the kitchen. His mother was getting ready to leave. "Are you and your friend going to college today?" she asked as she put on her jacket.

"Obviously," he said, filling the kettle. "Our last exam is today."  
  
"Oh," his mother said, opening the door.

"Um, I wanted to ask -- could John and I go up to the cottage next week for a couple days? You know, to celebrate?"  
  
"Celebrate what?" she asked.

"Finishing college," Sherlock answered.

"Right, yes, of course," she said. "That's fine -- look, I've got to run. See you later." She left. Sherlock poured two cups of tea.

John took a quick shower and got dressed, packing his things away and heading downstairs. "Want me to make you anything for breakfast?"

"No thanks," Sherlock said, pushing a mug towards John. "I'll have a banana or something. Look, I just asked about the cottage -- my mother said we could next week."

"Yeah? Was she suspicious at all about our planned sex holiday?" John asked, smiling.

"She said . . . she said we should go celebrate the end of exams," Sherlock said, smiling back. "I'm going to go shower."

John smiled. "Okay." He sat down at the table and looked over his notes, looking at them through Sherlock's eyes. Just another class. Just another exam.

Sherlock went upstairs to get ready. He packed up a few things in his bag and then headed back downstairs. "Hey brainiac," he said, kissing John's neck. "Stop trying to outsmart me."

John closed his eyes and smiled. "If I outsmart you in chemistry, pinch me hard okay? Dreams have to end sometime," he teased. He turned and kissed Sherlock's lips. "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's go," Sherlock said, leading them outside. They walked a bit for a while in silence and then Sherlock said, "You know your rugby friends? If you ever want to hang out with them, it's fine with me. I mean, you should . . . if you ever want to."

"I know, Sherlock. But they go to clubs and parties and drink . . ." he trailed off and shrugged. "I like hanging out with you more. Are we doing too much? Do you need some space?"

"I'll tell you if I do -- I haven't said that, have I? All I'm saying is that now that we'll have more free time, you might want to go play your sports business. It won't hurt my feelings if you do -- that's all I am saying."

"Oh yeah. Maybe we'll meet up to play over the summer. Will you come watch if we do?" John asked.

"We'll see," Sherlock said, reaching over and holding John's hand. As they walked up to the building, Sherlock said, "Let's not sit right next to each other. I want you to be able to see me . . . you know, if you need to."

"All right," John said, knowing it was a good idea even though his stomach squirmed at the idea.

"It won't be long, John," Sherlock said softly. "When I touch your hand again, it'll all be over." He smiled and took a seat on the other side of the room.

John dropped his bag on the floor by his desk and sat down, glancing at Sherlock every time someone else sat down, making sure he could be seen still.

Sherlock sent John a quick I love you thought, just in case he really could hear him in his mind. When the exams were passed out, Sherlock got straight to work, pausing every few minutes to look up over at John who was also working hard.

John's mind was immediately a mess. Everything he'd studied blurred together as he started at the paper. What made a covalent bond different from an ionic bond? What were the different layers of electron orbitals? He squeezed his eyes shut. Did he remember how to draw chemicals? How to balance formulas?

Yes. He opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. He was working quickly, probably almost done. And then he heard Sherlock's voice in his head, sorting everything neatly and scolding him about the state of things. He got to work, one question at a time, forgetting about the clock ticking away on the wall. One question, one answer -- each one a step closer to being done.

Sherlock finished rather quickly but didn't stand up -- he didn't want John to feel any pressure at all. He kept glancing up at him as he read over his own answers, even though he knew they were right.

When John finished, close to the end of the time limit, he grabbed his bag and went up to turn it in. The professor raised her brows, looking at the clock and then back at him. "The tutoring helped, then?"

John nodded. "I hope so." She nodded and dismissed him. He glanced at Sherlock before leaving the room, leaning against the wall just outside.

Sherlock got up a few minutes later and turned in his paper. He left the room and found John. He grabbed his hand and started walking them quickly out of the building. He turned to look at John. "We're free," he said smiling.

"We are free," John repeated, squeezing his hand as they walked out of the building.


	26. Epilogue

When Sherlock had said they were free, he had really meant it. Their week at the cottage was was the best of both their lives. There was no stress about studying or waking up early or following a schedule. There was no worry about being heard or caught -- not a single other person on earth could influence their decisions in any way. Sherlock's plan of having sex in every room kept them busy for the first few days but with the lake and trails nearby, they had plenty to do. John started running again, and Sherlock collected specimens to take back home to study.

Of all the changes the two had gone through since they'd met, the biggest one was also the precise opposite for each. That summer, John fully reveled in his utter independence: he could be who he wanted to be, he didn't have to hide anything like he had when he lived with his father. Some days he liked spending time on his own, sometimes he never left Sherlock's side. A few times he met the boys for rugby, and Sherlock even came out for a couple of matches.

Sherlock, on the other hand, was adjusting to a new feeling of dependence, of another person besides himself mattering in his world. He remembered important details in John's life, he anticipated his needs, and he found that talking to John about the things he used to assume he'd never share with anyone got easier and, as a result, his stomach hurt less. He even found himself open to some of John's interests: he was at least willing once to watch one horror film (though he was right that he didn't like them), but he did quite enjoy John's rugby matches. Especially when Sherlock realised which one was Anderson and could quickly read that his girlfriend was cheating on him.

John tried to stay positive about uni and worked closely with his Candidate Support Manager at the Army about the opportunities they had for him. Mycroft asked for Sherlock's help with something at his office, and because Sherlock finished it quickly and efficiently, their mother convinced Mycroft to set up some kind of internship option for Sherlock. It sounded like it would mostly be research, but he would get a small salary. He could also live anywhere he wanted so their plans to get a flat together could still go ahead. It gave him more time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life.

As results day approached, John got more and more anxious, but Sherlock kept him occupied as much as possible so that he didn't spiral into a frenzy. Finally the day arrived. Sherlock was up early, working in the shed on something he wouldn't let John see just yet. He let John sleep but left a note on the bed, saying he'd be ready to go to college whenever John was up. John's alarm woke him and he immediately sat up. He saw the note and slid out of bed, grabbing his phone.

_I'm ready. -JW_

Before he'd even read the text, Sherlock was packing up his things, locking the shed and heading in. He grabbed his bag, kissed John good morning, and they were on their way to college. They'd both agreed not to read their results until they got back home, though John's insides were churning so much, he just wanted it over.

"Let's go out to the shed to open the envelopes," Sherlock said, pulling John's from him and putting it with his own in his bag. "Come on, breathe deeply and walk home with me," he grabbed his hand and smiled. The walk home was quiet and quick.

Sherlock unlocked the shed and let them both in. He retrieved the envelopes and laid the one with John's name out in front of him. "Do you want me to leave you alone while you open it?" he asked.

John shook his head. "I don't want to open it alone," he said. "But I do want you to go first." Maybe watching Sherlock would normalize his own a bit more and he'd be ready.

Sherlock opened his envelope and scanned the results. "Satisfactory," he said. "All As."

"A or A*?" John asked.

"A* -- what does it matter? Open yours," Sherlock said, folding up the paper and putting it back in the envelope.

"It matters," John said without explaining why. He opened his envelope and pulled the results out, scanning slowly. "Oh, Sherlock," he mumbled, glancing up at him. He saw Sherlock's face immediately fall and he couldn't go through with it. "I'm kidding! Sorry," he said quickly. "I got all As and a B in chemistry. I made it!"

Sherlock moved over and embraced John. He held him tightly, like he didn't want to let him go. In fact, for a moment, he thought he might cry even though he wasn't quite sure why. "I knew you could do it, John. I knew it all along," he said softly.

"It's all thanks to you," John murmured into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock tightly. "Thank you for everything."

"Thank you, John," Sherlock said. He leaned down and kissed him softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sherlock." He leaned his head forward and listened to his heart -- his new favorite thing. "You know, if I can pass chemistry I'm pretty much unstoppable," he grinned.

Sherlock smiled, inhaling deeply -- the comforting smell of John. "I won't stop you. I'll be right beside you. Always."


End file.
